


Tell Me the Way Home

by muchmorethanaprincess



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Slow Burn, grounder!clarke, pining!clarke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:25:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4863032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muchmorethanaprincess/pseuds/muchmorethanaprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When some of the grounder clans won't stop attacking the people of the Ark, they turn to the commander for a truce. The solution? An arranged marriage between the young and promising leader Bellamy Blake, and the Trigedakru's own warrior and member of Lexa's inner circle, Clarke. </p><p>It's just a business arrangement. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“We have a proposal.” Lexa announced. “If you agree, the negotiation and alliance we’ve discussed will be put into effect. If you do not agree, we can still work to form a treaty, but… it’s difficult to guarantee how long it will last.”

“So what is this proposal?” Kane asked. He and Bellamy had headed the negotiations to end the frequent skirmishes between the Sky People and the small grounder villages surrounding them. Since they were being attacked on multiple fronts, they had figured it was best to go to the source. The source meant Commander Lexa, even though Bellamy didn’t think he could ever fully trust her after she took the deal from Mount Weather and left his people to fend for themselves, backing out of their alliance. He tried not to think about it, especially when she was standing right in front of him.

“A marriage,” Lexa said calmly.

Bellamy nearly choked, “What?”

“We propose a marriage,” Lexa continued, as if he hadn’t spoken, “between one of our people, and one of yours, to bind the peace agreement.”

Bellamy continued looking at her incredulously. Kane took the lead. “Why is this necessary? Why can we not just make an agreement?”

“We can,” said Lexa. “But it will be merely words. A marriage will increase our confidence in the treaty, and yours as well. Without a vested interest for both sides, it will be very easy for a treaty to fall apart, especially with the clans and villages of ours that are not interested in peace with you. But with a marriage, each of our sides will be more dedicated to keeping the peace, do you not agree?”

Bellamy grunted.

“In addition, each member of the marriage will be able to act as liaisons for their people. We would expect the couple to split their time between your camp and their village, so we would each have the opportunity to learn more about the other.”

“This all sounds great,” Bellamy said, “But who exactly is going to be getting married? Do we each just pick someone and hope it works out?”

Lexa looked appraisingly at him. “No. It needs to be one of your leaders. It needs to be someone from each side who holds enough power to ensure that the treaty will stay intact. That it will be honored even when conflict would make it easier to break.”

“So who from our side is eligible enough for you? Kane?”

“No,” Lexa shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Kane is two decades older than any of the eligible women we are considering. Unless Kane is interested in men?” She looked at him, and he shook his head, “we will not do that. It would have no chance of ever growing into a real marriage. Besides, he resides and leads from your people in Mount Weather, and it's the attacks on Arkadia that you're trying to stop, no? So the treaty should be sealed by a marriage there.”

“What about Finn?” Miller spoke for the first time.

“Finn is not influential enough among your people to be of value.”

“What about one of our women?” Miller asked. Bellamy grabbed his shoulder, shaking his head. “We can’t do that to them. Besides, if Finn isn’t important enough, all we've got is Monroe. And you know she isn't interested in... anyone that way.

“I have a feeling we’re walking in circles around each other. So why don’t you tell us what we really need to know.”

Lexa nodded. “Bellamy. We would like you to marry one of our people to secure the treaty.”

Bellamy had suspected this was coming, but he still felt it like a punch to the stomach. Marriage was not in his life plan. Not anytime soon anyway. Hell, a relationship wasn’t even in his plan. And now they wanted to marry him off to a grounder to keep the peace?

“Well then, if I agree to this, who am I going to be marrying?” He didn’t bother trying to keep the bitterness from his voice. He looked expectantly at Lexa, but only saw her give a tiny nod.

“Me,” said a voice from behind him. He whipped around, to be faced with a girl who looked only a little older than Octavia.

“May I present Clarke of the Trigedakru. Clarke comes from a village not far from your own. She trained with me as a warrior, and she is also a healer to her people,” said Lexa.

Throughout her introduction, Clarke maintained eye contact with Bellamy. He took in her height and full figure, the dark clothing she was wearing to watch inconspicuously from the back of the tent, and the black war paint smeared around her bright blue eyes. He turned back to Lexa.

“She trained with you? Does that mean she shares your same sense of loyalty? That she’ll walk out on an alliance whenever it suits her?”

“Bellamy,” Kane scolded.

Lexa eyed him shrewdly. “Clarke has been advocating for peace with your people since your ship first landed here. She also serves as one of my key advisors and strategists. If you want an agreement, she is the best partner to maintain that.”

Kane turned to him. “Bellamy. You don’t have to do this.”

“I need some air.” He shook his head and strode out of the tent.

 

That night, Clarke sat beside him by the campfire, as the villagers gave them a wide berth.

“You don’t have to marry me, if you don’t want to,” she said.

“My people need the treaty. I can’t let them keep dying every time one of your grounder villages decides they’re tired of us existing.”

“Oh no,” Clarke corrected him, “I mean, you’ll have to marry somebody. But it doesn’t have to be me.”

He almost laughed. “Who are my other options?”

Clarke pointed at a girl at an adjoining campfire. She was pretty, with dark hair and rosy cheeks, but _young_. Now Bellamy did laugh. This was insane.

“How old is she?”

“Sixteen.”

“Jesus Christ, no.”

“And your other option is…” Her eyes searched the people roaming around them, before landing on a fierce looking girl polishing a knife. “Her.”

Bellamy nearly choked on his breath. “Well she looks really warm and fuzzy.”

Clarke laughed. “Oh, she is. The good news is, she’s my age.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty. You?”

“Twenty-five.”

“The bad news is, when your dropship landed, she was right next to Lexa telling her to attack.”

“We burned all of those warriors. Why is she still alive?”

“Funny, that. She’s the kind of person who won’t hesitate to send others into battle, but she does hesitate to go herself,” she leaned in as she talked to him, speaking in a sly voice, like she was sharing a secret.

Bellamy grunted. “So you’re my best option, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

“Where were you when the dropship was being attacked?

“I was with Wells--my best friend. Uh, he and Lincoln and I had been removed from our obligations as warriors a few months before.”

“Why?”

“We, uh… well, I had been left behind at a battle, and Lincoln and Wells broke rank to return for me. They saved my life. But they were demoted for their actions.”

“You weren’t?”

“I didn’t really want to return to the battlefield after that. I had been trained as a healer, so I’ve worked at that ever since. If we marry, I could help the healer at your camp--to contribute to your community.”

Bellamy nodded. “Where were you during the battle at Mount Weather? When Lexa left us there to die?”

“I was here. Lexa would not allow me to go, as a warrior or a healer. I want you to know, Bellamy, I did not approve of Lexa’s decision. It wasn't honorable, that's not the way alliances should be treated.”

“So if I decide to marry you, how soon does it happen?”

“Oh,” Clarke said, startled. “A week or two. We can have the ceremony in just a few days if you need to return to your camp.”

Bellamy shook his head. “It’s not that we need to get back. They’ll be fine without us. I just don’t like being here.”

“But if we marry, you’ll have to go to my village with me. We’ll be splitting time between your camp and mine,” Clarke said.

“Will Lexa be there?” he asked, with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Oh. No, she won’t. Is that what’s been bothering you?”

Bellamy nodded. “I just can’t be around her without thinking about Mount Weather. I had to kill so many people, so many innocent people, _children_ , all because your commander took a deal and walked away from an alliance. But your culture’s all about war, and bloodshed, so that probably makes me sound weak to you, doesn’t it?”

Clarke fixed him with a hard stare. “There’s a reason I’m not a warrior anymore, Bellamy. That doesn’t sound weak. But even the best of the people in Mount Weather still needed our blood to live, still had to steal our bodies to survive. I do wish that Lexa had kept the alliance so you could have avoided so much unnecessary death.” She stood to leave. “But the Mountain killed my father. I’m glad you destroyed it.”

She walked away without a glance back at him.


	2. Chapter 2

When he left the campfire, Bellamy found Kane and told him that he would marry Clarke. He tried to ignore the proud look in his mentor’s eyes.

Clarke found him after breakfast the next morning, a small burlap bag in her hands.

“We can have the wedding as soon as Octavia arrives,” she said.

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“It’s been suggested that we stay in my village first, if that’s all right with you. We could spend a month or so there, and then go to yours for two months? You are more needed among your people than I am.”

He looked at her profile, studying the soft lines of her face now that she wasn’t wearing any paint. Her cheeks were pink in the morning chill, and her eyes were bright and alert, contrasting the grogginess Bellamy felt. He just wanted the treaty settled so he could stop feeling stressed over it.

“I thought you were one of Lexa’s advisors?”

“I am.” She shrugged. “She can send for me when she needs me. I’ve also spoken to my mother. She said that Octavia and Lincoln could accompany us to my village, and stay while we’re there, if you’d like.”

Bellamy felt surprised by her care. “That would be nice. Is your mother a leader or something?”

“More like a respected elder,” Clarke explained. “She’s the healer of my village, that’s how I learned my trade. She’s saved a lot of lives, and that earns you a certain amount of influence. People don’t bother to question her unless they think she’s really wrong, which isn’t often.” She paused. “What about your mother?”

Bellamy watched the cloud of his breath. “My mother died a long time ago.”

Clarke nodded, though she didn’t seem surprised. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Whatever. Things are different now.”

“Well, I—I have a gift for you,” Clarke said, holding out the burlap bag. Bellamy took it gingerly.

“What’s it for?”

“It’s a wedding gift,” she said.

“But I don’t have anything for you.” He felt awkward. If he were at home, he might have been able to scrounge something up, but as it was, he was in a transitory grounder village with nothing to offer her.

She shrugged like it didn’t matter, a small smile playing on her face. “I don’t care. But you can give me something later, when we’re at your camp, if it bothers you. Just open it.”

He tugged at the drawstring opening, and turned the bag over on his hand, surprised when a watch fell out.

“Oh.”

“It was my father’s,” Clarke said, leaning into his side as they both looked at it. The watch was sturdy, with worn leather straps, and it seemed to be set at the right time.

“I noticed you didn’t have one,” Clarke nodded at his wrists, “and I thought maybe you would like it.”

“I do like it,” he said. He put it on, and Clarke seemed to beam approvingly at him.

“My father made the straps himself. It looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” he looked at her with his brow furrowed, trying to figure her out. He knew arranged marriages were tradition among her people in circumstances like theirs- when peace needed to be made or a treaty held. But it was hard to imagine why someone like Clarke would want this. Or why someone like Clarke wasn’t already spoken for. She was attractive, after all, and what he’d seen of her personality so far wasn’t bad either.

“Why are you—why are you doing this?” he asked. She looked confused. “The marriage, I mean,” he clarified. “Why would you marry someone you don’t even know, just for a peace treaty?”

She looked around the village, apparently taking his question seriously. “I think, after everything your people have been through, they deserve to have peace. I want to help with that.” She bumped her shoulder against his. “And I don’t really trust anyone else to do it right.”

“Huh.”

“Why are you doing this, Bellamy?” she turned the question around on him.

“We need the treaty,” he said. “I can’t just let my people keep getting attacked, and I’m not interested in starting some kind of war. The clans who are attacking us—I think they’re trying to drive the rest of us into Mount Weather. We’ve already got a large settlement there, most of our people live in the mountain, but—it’s just” he paused, shook his head. “We spent long enough living in a tin can in space, some of us don’t want to live underground. That’s why we’re at Arkadia. It’s smaller, and it’s peaceful, and we get to run it a little differently than the typical way the old council likes to keep. We take care of each other, you know? But it’s less protected, we’re more vulnerable, and your people are taking advantage of that. I’m sure they don’t want us to take their land, or their resources, but that’s not what we want, either. We just want to _live_. I thought they were just trying to intimidate us, remind us that they have power, but people died in the last attack, and I’m not going to let that happen again.” He glanced at her, suddenly embarrassed. “Sorry, that was a lot.”

“No, don’t apologize,” Clarke said. “Your love for your people is admirable.” Bellamy blushed “And I think you’re right, they are trying to force you into Mount Weather. Lexa won’t let them eradicate you, so that’s probably the next best thing in their minds. Keep you all contained and out of sight, so they can pretend to forget about you.”

“Why wouldn’t Lexa let them get rid of us?” Bellamy asked.

“Your technology could be useful in the future.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Once we’re married and the treaty is in place, Lexa will order them all to stand down. If they attack again, they will be defying the commander, and they will be punished.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Bellamy murmured.

“Me too.”

 

The marriage ceremony was held two days later. It was short and basic, from what Bellamy could tell, and Clarke’s mother, Abby, glared at Bellamy throughout. They had been introduced the day before, and Abby had grunted at his greeting and moved away to speak hurriedly at someone in Trigedasleng.

“Sorry,” Clarke had muttered, “She doesn’t want me to marry you.”

“Is there something I should know, princess?”

“Not to call me that, for one. She’s just worried for me, that’s all. She doesn’t know anything about you.”

“Neither do you.”

“I know more than you think.”

He had looked at her questioningly but didn’t pursue it. Octavia gave her okay of the marriage when she arrived at the village, saying that Lincoln approved of Clarke, so she must be decent enough, though she rolled her eyes at the whole arranged affair in general.

Now, they knelt over an altar made from a tree stump, hands clasped as they took each other as husband and wife. One of the elders of Clarke’s village led the ceremony.

Bellamy felt Clarke’s hands clutch his tightly when the elder paused for him to agree to take Clarke in marriage. He raised one eyebrow as he looked at her and said, calmly and surely, “Yes.” The way she averted her eyes as a blush rose up her neck almost made him smile.

There was no denying that Clarke was a beautiful woman, and Bellamy found himself distracted by the dark fan of her eyelashes against her pink cheeks, her red-bitten lips. Her golden blonde hair was braided back from her face into a knot against the nape of her neck.

Bellamy was startled out of his musings on her appearance by Clarke’s voice answering the elder’s question to have Bellamy as her husband. The elder led them in vows in Trigedasleng, and Bellamy made a mental note to ask Clarke what they had said later. The words were awkward on his tongue, but no one in the small standing audience around them laughed, and Clarke smiled at him encouragingly, so he figured he did all right.

When they finished, the elder motioned for them to stand, and Clarke’s people shuffled forward, offering what Bellamy could only assume were words of congratulations, since most of them spoke in the grounder language. But he glanced at Clarke, ( _his_ _wife, holy shit_ ) and the smile on her face was wide and bright, and her laugh was warm and charming, and he had enough sense to realize that she might have dreamed about her wedding day, and he hoped it hadn’t been that bad for her.

 

There was a feast, and dancing, and lots of customary things that Bellamy didn’t understand thanks to the language barrier. Mostly, he wanted to sleep, because he was exhausted from negotiations, and he and Clarke had decided to leave for her village the next morning.

Clarke leaned over occasionally to explain things to him, like the ceremonial dance that was performed, and the toast given with cherry wine before anyone was allowed to eat. About halfway through the feast, which actually wasn’t so much a feast as an ordinary meal, since it was the start of winter, and food needed to be rationed, Bellamy noticed that she was getting jittery. One of her feet tapped incessantly against the ground, and when she reached for her goblet, her fingers were shaking.

He covered her hand with his own, noticing for the first time how drastically her pale skin contrasted his own.  She looked at him in surprise.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded a little too enthusiastically. “I’m fine, um, thank you.”

“Okay.” He released her hand and let the issue drop, but he noticed a minute later when she downed the rest of her wine and let her friend sitting on her other side pour more into the goblet.

When the feast was over, she let one of her friends pull her into the clearing for dancing, and after a while, she pulled Bellamy in and tried to teach him a dance. He wasn’t very good, but he figured it was the effort that counts, and Clarke seemed less agitated when she was moving, so he swallowed back his embarrassment and danced with her. He stopped and went back to the sidelines as soon as he could do so politely, but he didn’t miss Clarke grabbing another cup of wine.

She joined him while he chatted with Lincoln, slinging her arm around the man’s shoulders and leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for coming!” she shouted brightly over the drumbeats. Her face was flushed from dancing, and Bellamy pointedly tried not to think about how well that suited her. He still hardly knew anything about her.

“You’re welcome,” Lincoln said warmly, smiling down at her.

“So, you two are friends?” Bellamy asked.

“Yep! Since we were kids,” Clarke said. “Lincoln’s been looking out for me for a long time.”

“Well someone had to keep you out of trouble.”

“It never worked though. I just dragged you into the trouble with me,” she said, a smug smile lighting up her face.

“That you did,” he said, and then Octavia came to congratulate them for what might have been the hundredth time, and when Clarke moved to stand at Bellamy’s side, Bellamy realized she was fidgeting again.

“How long does the celebration last?” he asked, leaning down so she could hear him better.

“They’ll probably carry on for another hour at least, but we can leave whenever we’d like. Your things should, um—your things should be in my tent.”

He had packed everything earlier, before the wedding, and Octavia was supposed to move it all during the day.

“Would you like to go?” Clarke asked, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.

He shrugged. He had been determinedly _not_ thinking about the wedding night, but he couldn’t avoid it forever. He hadn’t decided what he was going to do, and he didn’t know the procedure for a situation like this. When one got arrange-married for a treaty, did their arranged-spouse expect them to sleep together? And it wasn’t that sex with Clarke would be some kind of chore, but he barely knew her. Usually when he slept with someone he barely knew, it was with the understanding that it was completely casual. Nothing with Clarke could be casual, because they were _married_. To be honest, _should I sleep with this hot blonde or not?_ wasn’t an issue Bellamy had ever expected to have, but he didn’t know enough about Clarke’s life, or her experience, or her willingness to marry him, to really trust that it was a good idea.

“We have an early start tomorrow, we should probably sleep sometime,” he said, and Clarke nodded and lead him out of the crowd. He’d been relieved that none of the grounders had made comments about the wedding night thus far, but was quickly disappointed when the people around them cheered at their exit.

“Sorry,” Clarke said, shooting him a small smile. “They’re just excited about us.”

She took him to the outskirts of the camp, then into a small tent, with one bed and a table.

“This is me,” she said, exhaling audibly. “I mean obviously this whole village is temporary, so this isn’t really my place at all, but… you know,” she trailed off with a nervous laugh.

He spotted a couple books on her table and moved to pick them up. “You read?” he asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Whatever I can get my hands on. Which really isn’t much.”

Bellamy hummed in agreement. “I’ve got some books back at Arkadia, obviously you can read them if you want, when we’re there.”

He could hear her moving on the other side of the tent, and when she didn’t respond after a moment, he turned around. The sight of Clarke in her underwear and wrappings that vaguely resembled a bra nearly knocked him back against the table. He put the book down as she walked toward him slowly, biting her lip, which— _fuck_. How was he supposed to not be turned on by her like this?

“Bellamy,” she said quietly when she reached him, and then she was leaning in, and kissing his neck, and his eyes closed and he sighed in pleasure before he could help it. His hands fell to her waist on instinct, to steady her, and his better judgment was almost conquered because Clarke was warm and soft, and she smelled like flowers, and a little like sweat from the dancing. But then her hands grasped his arms, and he could feel them trembling forcibly enough that he couldn’t ignore it.

“Clarke.”

She hummed against his neck. He moved his hands to her shoulders and pushed gently. “Clarke, stop.”

She pulled back, looking up at him, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “What’s wrong?” she asked, and her voice was so breathy Bellamy wished he could just push her onto the bed and devour her, but he shoved the thought away. He had to be responsible about this. He wasn’t going to have sex with her when she was shaking like this, obviously terrified, no matter that she was technically initiating it. It occurred to him that this was probably why she had been anxious all evening.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he said, turning his face away from her, trying not to look at her bare stomach, or her shoulders, or the rise of her breasts, or the length of her pale, smooth legs.

“Why not?”

“We just—we shouldn’t. I can’t.”

“You can’t,” she said flatly, and Bellamy told himself that it wasn’t disappointment in her voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just—” he turned around so he couldn’t see her anymore. “I’ll just go,” he headed to the flap in the tent.

“No!” Clarke shouted, and he turned around in surprise to find her sitting on the bed with her face in her hands. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, just, please don’t do that. If we were at your camp, I wouldn’t care, but we’re with my people right now, and it’s our wedding night, and they’ll speculate about why we came in together and why you left ten minutes later in a huff.”

“I’m not in a huff,” Bellamy said, almost indignant.

“Whatever, just please don’t put me through that.”

“Okay, I won’t. Sorry, I didn’t think of it like that.”

“It’s fine. I’m just… going to go to sleep, I guess.”

“Okay. Do you mind if I, uh,” he gestured at the books, “If I read for a bit?”

“No, go ahead,” She settled in the bed, noticeably scooting to one side before she pulled the fur covers over herself.

The awkwardness didn’t leave the room and the tension didn’t leave Bellamy’s shoulders until he heard Clarke’s breathing even out in sleep. He didn’t consciously decide to sleep at the table instead of the bed, but the exhaustion of the day gripped him quickly, and before he knew it, the book was slipping out of his fingers as his eyes fell shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to the way the last chapter and this chapter have gone, there will be Clarke's POV in this fic too. It just hasn't happened yet. Please let me know what you think if you get a chance! (Criticism is welcome too!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some little reveals in this chapter so I hope you like it.

The first thing Clarke noticed when she woke up was that Bellamy was definitely not in bed next to her. She courted the thought that maybe he was an earlier riser than she was, but when she turned over she found him slumped over the table, the book he had been reading smashed beneath his face.

She rose and dressed quietly, stopping in front of the table to stare at her new husband for a moment. She couldn’t help the wave of rejection that washed over her with the memories from last night. Bellamy had pushed her away. Bellamy hadn’t wanted her. Maybe it was stupid that she’d thought he would, but Bellamy had never been particularly celibate, and she knew that. He slept around, less so now than when the dropship first landed, but still indiscriminately enough that Clarke had figured this part of their marriage, at least, would run smoothly. She pushed the thought away. He hadn’t wanted to bed her, and she wouldn’t bother him about it again. Still, he should have slept in the bed. They’d be trekking to her village today and his position on the table would almost certainly leave kinks in his neck and shoulders.

“Idiot,” she muttered as she walked out of the tent, but her voice was fond.

She got breakfast, making a plate for Bellamy and trying to avoid the other people in the village as much as possible.

So of course, she ran into Lexa. She tried not to grit her teeth too obviously.

“Clarke,” the commander greeted her.

“ _Heda_.”

Lexa sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t have to call me that?”

“It’s what you are to me, right?”

“I suppose,” Lexa conceded, as she always did. “Yesterday was nice, don’t you think?”

“Yes, it was,” Clarke said. She hated small talk with Lexa. They did fine together in political meetings, with specific topics and problems to handle, but anything more personal than that was awkward.

“It was a good decision not to wait. The weather looks like it will turn any day now,” Lexa said.

“Yes, well, it was Bellamy’s decision not to wait. Good timing,” Clarke agreed.

“And last night? I wasn’t able to attend the celebration.”

“It was nice.” Clarke shuffled stiffly. “I should really,” she gestured with the plate, “get back to Bellamy.”

“Right, of course.”

She turned to leave, but stopped when Lexa called.

“Clarke? You know I just—I only want you to be happy,” Lexa said, and Clarke thought she might have seen a flicker of emotion on her face. She ignored it. It was always so hard to tell, anyway.

“Make the clans stop attacking my husband’s people. Then I’ll be happy.”

Lexa nodded, and Clarke walked away.

 

Bellamy was still asleep when Clarke returned, so she picked up the other book, considered for a moment, and then dropped it flat on the table right next to his face. He jolted up, groaning and grabbing his neck.

“Pretty stupid idea to sleep at the table instead of in the bed with plenty of perfectly available space in it, don’t you think?”

“Did you have to wake me up like that?” Bellamy grumbled.

“Well maybe if you’d slept in the bed I would have woken you up more nicely.” She put the plate on the table. “I brought you breakfast.”

“Thank you.”

She shrugged, and moved to pack her belongings while Bellamy ate. Within an hour, they were making their way to her village, her mother leading while Octavia and Lincoln trailed behind them. Clarke saw Bellamy rubbing at his neck when he thought she wasn’t looking, but Octavia caught him.

“What’s wrong, Bell, pulled a muscle last night?” she teased.

“Jesus, O. No I just-” he looked to Clarke, but she only raised her eyebrows. “I just have some knots in my shoulders. You know I’ve been stressed about this damn treaty.”

“Sure, sure,” Octavia said, running ahead of them and skipping in playful circles. Bellamy tried to keep the smile off his face, but Clarke caught it anyway.

 

They reached the village a few hours later, walking into a small clearing in the middle of looming trees.

“Well, this is it,” Clarke said, turning in a circle. “Welcome to the arboretum.”

They could hear the sounds of a river nearby, but otherwise the area seemed deserted. There were no structures of any kind, not even tents, to be seen.

“Um, where is it?” Bellamy asked.

Clarke only grinned, until Lincoln took pity on them and said, “Look up.”

Bellamy and Octavia did, and discovered a sprawling system of treehouses several dozen feet above their heads, expertly camouflaged against the wooded background.

“Holy shit,” Bellamy whispered, awe coloring his voice.

“Thanks,” Clarke said, gratified.

“This is incredible.”

Even Abby smiled at his reaction.

Wells appeared from the shadows of the forest, and Clarke shouted his name as she ran to him, jumping into his arms for a long hug. He set her back on her feet and grabbed her shoulders, looking at her with a charming smile.  
“How’s married life?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s only been a day. I’ll get back to you when I find out myself.”

He laughed, and she dragged him over to introduce him to Bellamy, the two of them nodding politely at each other before Lincoln introduced him to Octavia, who was much more friendly. He offered to find an open cabin for them, so Clarke led Bellamy in the opposite direction, to the rope ladder that wound up the side of a tree to her cabin.

“So the entire village is in the air?” he asked as they started climbing.

“Yep. It’s particularly useful for defense. A lot of people, even other—well, even some of my people don’t know it exists, or where it’s located. We’ve watched people walk right through, without ever looking up, and we have the upper hand in the event of an attack.” She laughed at her own pun. “We cut the tree branches strategically, so they’re not easily climbable,” she said as she started scaling the ladder, “and all of the ladders can be lifted or cut off, so no one unwelcome can make it up. We’ve got archers on guard, so from there it’s just like—smashing bugs.” She turned when she reached the top, seeing Bellamy only halfway up the ladder. “Don’t worry, you’ll get better at the climbing.”

“You’re like a fucking squirrel,” he grumbled.

She shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”

She showed him the cabin, which had a woodstove instead of a fireplace, with pipes leading through the ceiling and carefully arranged to avoid any dangerous flames. A large bed settled on padding on the floor took up most of the space, save for a table with a few books haphazardly stacked on top, and a single chair.

A bridge connected the cabin to other structures in the trees, and she led him across after they dropped their packs, showing him the healer’s room, the kitchen, the laundry hut, and outdoor common areas, explaining that the village had group meals, but he could use the kitchen if he wanted, so long as he stayed out of anyone’s way, and laundry was a personal responsibility. They shared a bathroom with one other cabin, which housed Clarke’s friend Cali and her mother.

“So, what do you think?” Clarke asked, turning to him as they made it back to her cabin to unpack.

“I think it’s pretty amazing.”

Clarke smiled. “Good answer.”

 

The first week was awkward, though Clarke refused to acknowledge it. She figured if she kept acting like nothing was weird, it would stop being weird at some point. She had counted on the wedding night being the big icebreaker between she and Bellamy, reasoning that if they could have some good sex, then it would lead to some easy affection, and that would lead to… something. Friendship, maybe.

But there wasn’t sex, and Clarke, unsure of why he had rejected her and not wanting to deal with another refusal, didn’t try to initiate anything again, so they adjusted to living together with a stupid, underlying tension that they both pretended wasn’t there. Clarke went back to working the healer’s rotation with her mother, and Bellamy was assigned to guard watches and hunting schedules.

They made idle chitchat through the days, and Clarke made him actually sleep in the bed, though they kept carefully to each of their sides. They ate meals together, but always with Octavia and Lincoln too, and they spent as little time as possible in their cabin together. Bellamy started reading her books, and that at least, made Clarke happy.

She thought the stiffness would never break, but then she got the flu.

It started when she woke up in the middle of the night, gagging, and she crawled clumsily over Bellamy’s body, landing on her butt in a move that would have made her laugh if her stomach wasn’t roiling. She barely made it to their tiny ledge of a balcony before she heaved over it, her vomit falling to the ground below. Her stomach kept clenching as she tried to gasp in air, while violent shivers took over her body and her eyes leaked tears.

She heaved again just as Bellamy pushed the door open, mumbling “Clarke?” in sleepy confusion when he saw her kneeling on the ledge. He was at her side immediately, grabbing her hair with one hand and rubbing her back soothingly with the other.

“Sorry,” she stammered, embarrassed to have him see her like this.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, sounding like he meant it. “Did you eat something bad?”

She shook her head. “I think it’s the flu.” Her teeth chattered as she spoke, and Bellamy gently hauled her up by the waist.

“Come on, it’s too cold out here, let’s get you inside.”

He put her right back in bed, despite her protests, and bundled her in all the available blankets and furs before retrieving a pot for her, should she puke again, and water to rinse her mouth with.

“But you can’t drink it, or it’ll come right back up,” he said sternly.

She didn’t even have enough energy to say, “okay mother,” the way she wanted to.

“Will you be able to sleep again?” he asked as he sat in bed next to her.

“I hope so,” she tried to say, but it was distorted by her shivers, despite the layers piled on top of her. “I’m so cold,” she said through chattering teeth.

“Okay, c’mere,” he said, sliding under the blankets with her before pulling her against him, banding his arms around her waist. She whimpered a little at the rush of warmth from his body, and laid her forehead on his chest, feeling the shudders subside in relief.

“If I puke on you, it’s your own fault,” she mumbled.

“Noted,” he said with a small laugh.

She fell asleep much more quickly than she expected.

 

Clarke woke up the next morning, just before dawn, when Bellamy moved from underneath her. An incoherent mumble left her mouth, but he shushed her.

“Guard duty,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“Kay,” she said as she rolled over. She felt him tuck the covers around her before she drifted off again.

 

Clarke hated being sick, and worst of all, being bored, so when Bellamy came back and said he’d gotten the rest of the day off, she wasn’t above begging him to read to her. He didn’t seem too bothered by the request, so she picked one of her books – an old love story that her father had adored and that she noticed Bellamy hadn’t read yet.

Bellamy read from the beginning, his warm, strong voice washing over her, and she felt stupidly satisfied when he was interested in the story, pausing occasionally to call the romantic hero a jackass or laugh at the embarrassing moments.

She tried to tell herself not to let her idiotic crush on him get even bigger, but when she sniffled and he looked up from the book to ask if he could get her anything, she told him to retrieve tea from her mother, and knew she was already too far gone.

 

Bellamy walked along the bridges suspended between cabins until he reached the healer’s room, clearing his throat so Abby would look up at him.

“Are you injured?” she asked curtly.

“No, Clarke’s sick. She woke up throwing up last night.”

“Is she pregnant?” Abby asked, startled.

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t the doctor in this situation, but… “We’ve been married a week.”

Abby seemed to shake herself out of it. “Right, of course.”

“Clarke says it’s the flu. She asked for some kind of special tea that you have?”

“Sure, sure.” Abby bustled around the space, returning to him with a small tin of tealeaves and a jar of honey. “I’ll come back with you, just to check on her.”

“That’s really not necessary. I can come back if we need you,” he said, feeling like he should avoid whatever was about to happen, though he didn’t know why, except that he hadn’t seen Clarke communicate much with her mother since he’d met her, hadn’t seen either of them even smile at the other.

“Nonsense, I’ll just come now,” Abby brushed him off and walked out, heading to Clarke’s cabin, leaving Bellamy with no choice but to follow.

 

Clarke turned to the opening door with a smile. If she was a little too affectionate when she was sick and feeling like shit, well, she could just say she was delirious. The smile dropped when her mother walked in before Bellamy, and she rolled over to face the wall immediately.

“Clarke? I came to check on you, and make you tea,” she said, her voice extra gentle and overly sweet.

“Bellamy is perfectly capable of making tea, mother,” Clarke growled back.

Abby felt Clarke’s forehead, declaring it “definitely the flu,” since she had a fever.

“I already knew it was the flu,” she muttered, glaring at her mother.

“Well, I’ll just make your tea then,” Abby said, trying to smooth it over.

“ _Nomon_ ,” Clarke said, her voice harsh. “ _Gon we, beja_.”

Abby looked up quickly, shocked.

Clarke softened her voice, but only just slightly. “Bellamy will make my tea, please.”

“Okay,” Abby nodded. “Fine.” She walked out, her head high, but Clarke could see the dejected look on her face.

She sighed, suddenly even more exhausted.

“So,” Bellamy started, awkwardly. “Any particular way to make this tea?”

“You can’t mess it up, promise. You had to bring my mother back with you?”

“I told her not to, but she insisted. What’s up between you two?”

“It’s complicated,” she mumbled.

He looked at her archly. “I’ve got nothing but time.”

“My throat hurts?” she tried. He only stared.

“Fine,” she sighed. “My mother is sort of the reason my father died. It hasn’t exactly been easy to get over.”

“What happened?”

“There was this trip planned,” she waved her hand. “A political expedition and hunting on the way back all wrapped into one, and it went dangerously close to Mount Weather, visiting the villages closest to the mountain. I mean, we were all under the shadow of the mountain no matter where we were, but the closer you got, the worse your chances. People from those villages used to disappear all the time. The entire group was captured. And… you saw what happened inside.”

Bellamy nodded. “I did.”

“My father wasn’t meant to go. But he and my mother had a fight. I still don’t know what it was about—she won’t tell me. But she was so angry, she told him he should go on the trip. And he did. And then he didn’t come back.”

“How long ago was this?” Bellamy asked, sympathy written all over his face.

“About six months before your dropship landed.”

“Well I’m sorry we didn’t show up sooner.”

She looked up at him as he brought her a mug of tea. She’d seen him in fights, fierce and solid, formidable even when his opponents outstripped him in skill. And she’d seen him at the negotiation table, unyielding and smart when it came to getting what his people needed. But right now he just looked like an ordinary man, shoulders hunched as he carried the tea to her, his hand fluttering over her shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

“Yeah, me too.”

 

She drank her tea, which, as she had promised, he hadn’t messed up, and she slept more, and he read to her.

He somehow scrounged up soup for her at dinnertime, which she thanked him for profusely, and they ate alone together in the cabin. She whined about how much her eyes hurt, and when they went to sleep that night, he didn’t stay so far on his side of the bed.

They finished the book the next day, and Bellamy admitted that he enjoyed it.

“We can be friends, right?” she blurted unexpectedly, as Bellamy cleaned up the cabin and she languished in bed. Her throat hurt to talk, but it seemed suddenly important to settle this with him.

He paused at the table, facing away from her. “What do you mean?” His voice sounded strange, but she didn’t know how to decipher it.

She rolled her eyes. “We’re married. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together. And I’d prefer that we don’t tiptoe around each other. There’s no reason for us to be uncomfortable. So… we should be friends.” She hid her vulnerability in her tired voice, sounding almost like she didn’t care. But she did. She wanted him to like her, and to trust her. When she’d argued with Lexa for a marriage with the sky people to broker peace, she hadn’t fully contemplated what would happen if Bellamy didn’t like her. She had just assumed… she felt shame flare through her at her arrogance.

Bellamy turned around, meeting her eyes. “I’m not sure I’m very good at being friends with people. But sure, we can try.”

“Don’t sound so excited about it,” Clarke joked. He laughed, just a small huff, but she felt pride at the sound.

“We can be friends,” he said, smiling.

“Good. Because you’re the most awkward roommate I’ve ever had.”

He grinned, and ducked his head. “Noted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very very tiny chapter to get back into it and start moving this story forward. The reason it took me so long to update is because the last two chapters received a seriously disappointing amount of feedback when published given how many hits and subscriptions the story actually has. To everyone who did comment and who has commented in my little hiatus, I sincerely thank you. To everyone who didn't comment....you have only yourself to blame.

It was easier after that, less tense. The ice between them had been broken, and they were both glad of it. They talked a little more, and they didn’t stay so far on their own sides of the bed at night. It was too cold to bother with that most nights anyway.

Things at Clarke’s village carried on as usual, and before they knew it, they’d been married for a month and were packing up for Arkadia. Octavia and Lincoln would be coming with them.

“Why couldn’t you two be the marriage for the treaty?” Bellamy grumbled to them just before they left.

Lincoln laughed softly. “Because I’m hardly a grounder, and Octavia’s hardly a sky person. They know better.”  
He was right--he and Octavia were often off on their own, since neither one of them felt completely comfortable at either place.

Clarke arrived with their horses loaded up with their packs, one for each couple since her village wouldn’t spare more, and they set off.

They reached Arkadia by sundown, and had barely gotten inside Bellamy’s cabin, now their cabin, when it was flooded by a steady stream of people checking in to update him on the happenings of camp. Miller was first, to brief him on security, but everyone from farmers to children came to tell him about their month. Some even thanked him for securing the treaty. He introduced them to Clarke, his mouth sticking on the word “wife” with a little difficulty. She smiled warmly at them all.

“Your people love you,” she said when they were finally alone.

Bellamy ducked his head, but not before she saw his blush.

“I mean I knew that already, I saw you with the delinquents, but--”

“What do you mean?” Bellamy asked.

“Oh uh, when your dropship landed, I was one of the scouts sent to watch your camp. I saw the way you were with them.”

"I’m surprised you weren’t horrified,” he joked. But she could sense a thread of discomfort lingering there.

"The early days were a bit rough,” she grinned. “But you’re a natural leader, Bellamy. They were just kids, and you took care of them. It’s easy to see their loyalty to you, even now.” There’s more that she won't say, like how that time watching his camp is how she knew he’d be a decent husband, not just that she could marry him for the treaty, but that she also wanted to. She’d had other duties in the two years since, but her stupid crush never went away.

Bellamy looked a little bashful. “It’s weird to think of you out in the woods watching us, and we never knew.”

“I was very good at my job,” she said with a smirk. “But it was weird for me too. There were so many times I wanted to help, but I wasn’t allowed to be seen. You have no idea how hard I tried to convince Anya and Lexa not to attack the dropship, but Lexa and I had just broken up and she was pissed at me and wouldn’t listen.”

“Wait wait wait, broken up like, you and Lexa were in a relationship?” Bellamy asked, looking shocked.

“Is that so surprising?”

“No offense to your heda, or whatever,” Bellamy said the foreign word with just a hint of derision. It made Clarke smile. “But she is like, a robot. Never really pictured her with a heart.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of why we didn’t work out.”

“What happened?”

Clarke sighed. “Remember that battle I mentioned, when I was left to die? Lexa and I were both on the frontlines. She's the one who left me there, when I was fatally injured. I mean, I understand it. Even now, I understand why she had to.” Clarke adopted a gruffer voice, imitating a recitation of facts. “She had to lead her people on, she couldn’t show weakness, she couldn’t offer favor to me, order soldiers to carry me out, when she wasn’t doing so for the rest of the wounded.” Her voice went back to normal. “We went over all of the explanations, and I tried so hard to be okay with it, but no matter what, I couldn’t forget it. I’d be lying next to her, and all I could see when I closed my eyes was me, bleeding out on the battlefield while she walked away. Reliving how I thought I was gonna die. It was miserable, and I couldn’t stay with her. We both knew it. You weird space people were actually a good distraction.”

“And Lincoln and Wells saved you?"

She smiled softly. “Yep. They came back for me when they realized I was missing. That’s why Lincoln and I ended up on watch duty for you guys.”

“Good friends.”

Clarke’s teeth flashed. “The best.”

“You hungry?” Bellamy asked.

“Huh?”

“Dinner’s any minute now. We should go, you can meet everyone else.”

“Oh, uh, yeah definitely.”

“Cool.”

 

Dinner in the mess hall was a commotion of everyone at camp. Children ran between tables, teenagers huddled in groups away from their parents, and most of the adults looked weary from a day of work.

Clarke noticed Bellamy’s small smile at the scene as he led her to a tall black man who was patiently dealing with a child tugging at his shirt. He looked up when they approached.

“Sam,” Bellamy said. “This is uh, this is Clarke, my wife.”

Sam’s eyebrows raised.

"For the treaty.”

"Right, of course.” Sam offered his hand, Clarke shook it, though a little awkwardly.

“She’s a healer in her own village, I was thinking maybe she could work with you while we’re here. You could learn from each other.”

Sam nodded agreeably. “That sounds fine. I'll see you in the medbay tomorrow.”

They thanked him and moved on. Clarke was introduced to the rest of Bellamy’s friends, and some who were… less than friends. Miller, his boyfriend Bryan, Harper, Monroe, Monty, and Raven all made quick impressions on Clarke. A floppy-haired boy named Finn also made an impression, though less than favorable. She remembered most of them from her time spying on the dropship, and she remembered him in particular for his drama with Raven. His girlfriend had followed him all the way to earth only to find him hooking up with other girls after less than a week apart.

He was an idiot, as far as Clarke was concerned, and the way he immediately started flirting with her when they were introduced confirmed that he hadn't changed. She gave him a confused look and tried to ignore him as politely as possible, scooting closer to Bellamy in a way that she hoped was subtle and natural. 

Everyone else was welcoming to her, ribbing Bellamy for the quick marriage but being careful not to make her uncomfortable. Raven wanted to know about the technology at Clarke’s village (“not much, unfortunately”) while Miller and Bellamy talked hunting schedules and guard rotations.

That night, Clarke couldn't get warm enough to fall asleep, though Bellamy, the furnace that he was, had dropped off within minutes of laying down. So when he turned in his sleep and curled around her, she let her body melt against his without a second thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, disappointment does not help writing motivation. If you're enjoying the story, please let me know!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short(ish) chapter. They're getting us where we need to go (the good stuff). GIANT thank you's to everyone who commented on the previous chapter, it was seriously motivating to help me get this one done. Y'all are the real MVPs.

The next night, Clarke dropped a stack of books on the bed, then collapsed next to them.

“I don’t think I can get up for dinner. You’ll just have to leave me here to die,” she moaned.

Bellamy laughed from his place at the table, looking over maps and graphs. “Rough day with Sam?”

“I can’t tell if he likes me or hates me. But he made me feel like an idiot and told me my medical knowledge was mediocre at best. I’ve got _assignments_.” She waved one of the books around. “My brain hurts.”

“Big bad warrior princess can’t handle a little learning,” Bellamy teased.

She made a noise in the back of her throat before she could stop herself. “What is it with the ‘princess’ thing?”

He shrugged. “You know, the princess gets married off to a foreigner for an advantageous alliance? The arranged marriage really fits the bill, sorry.”

“Huh.”

 

Raven, Monroe, and Harper sat with them at dinner, and Clarke deduced from some of the conversation that Monroe must be something along the lines of Bellamy’s “third,” in line after Miller.

Clarke watched the dynamics between them and the rest of the camp while she ate hot, filling stew made with venison. Everyone trusted Bellamy, looked to him and his flanks for guidance on small and large problems, and came to him for approval on their endeavors, even when they technically didn't need it. He was the leader here, even though this colony technically still answered to their chancellor in Mount Weather. And Clarke, as his wife, received some of that easy trust right away. They were small things, but there were nods of acknowledgment, handshakes offered, tiny waves from shy children, smiles from across the hall that didn't falter when they moved from Bellamy’s face to her own.

And this, Clarke thought, was why she had married him. Why, regardless of what she felt for him, she had pushed so hard for the treaty to stop the attacks against his people. His people, eating dinner in a mess hall together, welcoming someone that they had no guarantees of, all because they could see that she looked at Bellamy the same way they did. Welcoming her because she offered to help, and they needed that, and if she agreed to tie herself to Bellamy for it, then her judgment must not be too far off base.

 

Clarke was working with Sam the next day when Harper came to the medbay just after lunch.

“Hey guys! How are you doing, Clarke?” she said cheerfully.

“Great!” Clarke responded, trying to match her enthusiasm, and not reveal to Sam that she was exhausted from being drilled with medical information.

“You're here for your implant?” Sam asked, and Harper nodded.

Sam instructed Clarke to sit close by to observe the procedure as he inserted a tiny rod into the underside of Harper’s upper arm, explaining the details and process so she could someday do it on her own. Harper winced in pain, but it was over quickly and she left with a smile and a wave after Sam reminded her of the potential side effects.

Clarke turned back to Sam. “Sorry, but… what was that?” Her brow crinkled curiously.

“It’s a hormone implant that prevents pregnancy for several years unless it’s removed.”

The expression on her face must have said enough, because Sam tilted his head. “You want one?”

 

The first week at Arkadia passed, and Clarke’s work with Sam, though still exhausting, also became exciting. She started to see it as a challenge—how quickly she could learn, how she might impress him in their sessions when there were no patients to tend to. And he loosened up a little bit too, saw how eager she was to advance and tapped into that. Bellamy visited during their hours occasionally, stopping in to chat with Sam, discuss camp problems and solutions. There was even, Clarke smiled to notice, a bit of camp gossip that floated through the medbay. Patients chattered at him when they came in, so Sam, friendly and unassuming, seemed to know more about everyone in camp than anyone else. It made sense that Bellamy came to him for insight when he had to settle personal conflicts. It occurred to Clarke that the more work she took on in the medbay, the more she might start to fill that role too.

 

“Oh my god put some socks on!” Clarke nearly screeched when Bellamy dropped into bed and his foot brushed against her leg. “Your feet are freezing, Jesus Christ.”

But Bellamy was already huddling himself in the warmth of the blankets and furs of their bed. “I’m too cold,” he mumbled. “I'm not getting back out now just for some socks.”

“Well, keep your frozen toes over there.”

“Hey, you should just be glad it’s not cold like on the Ark,” he said, a bit playfully, but…

“It was cold on the Ark?” Clarke asked immediately.

He shook his head, like brushing a thought away. “Different kind of cold. The temperature regulating systems broke down a lot, especially on the lower stations. You got used to it eventually.”

They were quiet for a moment, as Clarke thought about a life like that—perpetually cold, or waiting to be.

“How was the gathering today?” Clarke asked.

“Fine. Checked the traps, got a few rabbits. The usual. You know we were thinking of trying to breed rabbits for meat?”

“That’s a good idea. That way you wouldn't always have to rely on larger game. They breed quickly, so you don't have to worry about their health the same way you would with pigs or cows. Not as big of a loss if something happens to some of them.”

“Right, my thoughts exactly.”

“Oh, by the way, I'm supposed to help Sam deliver the Smith baby whenever she goes into labor.”

Bellamy hummed in acknowledgment.

“Can I ask you something?” Clarke said softly.

His head turned to meet her eyes. “Okay.”

“What was it like on the Ark?” Clarke asked.

“Awful,” Bellamy responded without hesitation.

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

He paused. “How much do you know about me and Octavia before the ground?”

Clarke’s forehead crinkled in thought. “I know it’s unusual to have a sibling among your people. I know there was a law about only having one child. What else is there?”

So Bellamy told her. The whole sordid tale, from the day of Octavia’s birth, when he was six years old, through the starvation and the hiding and the secret deals his mother made for extra rations, through the added responsibility of another person’s _life_ , and the day they were finally caught, because Bellamy just wanted to see his sister happy at a dance, all the way through his miserable year alone before an agreement to kill someone’s political opponent got him on the dropship with her.

“The worst part is that, after we were caught, there were moments sometimes where it felt like…” He swallowed audibly, then continued, his voice quiet and filled with shame. “Relief. The worst thing that could have happened did. It was over. I no longer had to worry or lie or hide. I could eat all my rations, as measly as they were, and Octavia was being fed by someone else. Everything that had happened was awful, but it was done at least. It was finished. And then I would feel despicable for feeling that.”

Clarke reached out to him, her hand finding his arm. She curled her fingers softly into the muscle and brushed her thumb over his warm skin comfortingly.

“It wasn't fair of your mother to do that to you. She put you in an impossible position.”

“No, it wasn't fair,” Bellamy agreed. “But she did it anyway.”

“So earth is better?”

“Way better. I mean, I'll never see a moonrise again, but I can live without it for all the space and air and _food_ here. God, there’s so much food.”

Clarke laughed softly. “You might not have made it here if Octavia hadn't been discovered, you know? I mean, a lot of people died when the Ark finally crashed, right?”

Bellamy nodded. “Yeah, only a small portion of the ship actually made it through the atmosphere.”

“And that’s where you and your sister would have been, if your life had continued the way it was. But because Octavia was in the skybox, and because you wanted to protect her, you ended up on the dropship instead. You made it here alive. When you took Octavia to that dance, when your mother was floated… you just might have actually saved both your lives.”

Bellamy’s brow furrowed. “I never really thought of it like that. I always just felt so guilty, for getting my mother killed, and Octavia locked up.”

“Your mother knew the risk she was taking, Bellamy. It’s okay to let her be accountable for the decisions she made. You were trying to make Octavia happy, and you _did_. Because of you, she ended up here, where she’s free and well-fed, where she can do anything she wants.”

Bellamy blinked back the wetness that had gathered in his eyes. Clarke dutifully pretended not to notice.

“Thank you,” Bellamy murmured.

“It's too easy to blame yourself. But if you could go back and change those things you think you did wrong, you wouldn't be here at all. It turned out alright. You should…” She trailed off.

“What?” Bellamy asked. “I should what?”

“You should forgive yourself.”

She turned to him, nudged her forehead gently against his shoulder, and they fell asleep like that.

 

Bellamy couldn't get Clarke’s words out of his head. _You should forgive yourself. You should forgive yourself. You should forgive yourself._ They echoed off the walls of his mind until he wasn't quite sure what he was thinking anymore. Maybe she was right. Maybe he needed to let the past be the past. Maybe his failure to let it was the reason he hadn't moved on with his own life the way that he should've by now.

It was easy to ignore, what with all his responsibility to his people. Easy to tell himself he didn't have time for someone else when so much of his time was for Arkadia. Though he’d slowed down on the casual hookups in the two years since the dropship landed, he hadn't truly gotten close to anyone. Miller and Monroe and Monty, they knew him best, but even with them he kept a sort of emotional distance.

He had Octavia, but she had her own life now, and even between them he knew there was a difference. He cared for her, and she let him, albeit grudgingly at times, because those had always been their roles. The overbearing brother. The stubborn sister trying so hard not to be inhibited by anything or anyone.

He didn't think about the way he didn't have anyone in his life who cared for him any differently than they did everyone else. He didn't let himself.

This was who he was. Bellamy Blake, the man who took care of people and didn't ask for anything in return. The man who took care of people and never quite managed to feel that that was enough to make him worthy of them.

He wasn't sure what kind of husband that was supposed to make him in the middle of an arranged marriage. Would he learn to care for Clarke the way he probably should? Would she reach that point in return? How much _was_ one supposed to care for their arranged spouse anyway?

 

Days passed, and Bellamy found that Clarke’s company was unexpectedly just… nice. She was easy to live with. A bit messy, but accommodating and careful not to make their space seem too much like her own.

He had thought that he might resent not having the cabin to himself at the end of the day, so he was surprised to find that he actually _liked_ the exact opposite. At least, he liked it with Clarke.

It was nice, he realized, to have someone to check in with. Someone who would ask him about his day and actually seemed to listen when he rambled about hunting and security and food stores. He liked coming home at the end of the day and having someone to talk to. It made some lost or forgotten domestic feeling take root inside him. Like he had something for himself, something simple and warm and unaffected by whatever went on outside his little wood cabin.

“Hey Bellamy?” she asked, in the middle of one of those easy conversations.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Can you teach me how to use a gun?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE comment if you enjoyed the chapter. Help me stay motivated and don't be a ghost reader!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on TELL ME THE WAY HOME: Clarke and Bellamy settled into Arkadia and each other. Clarke asked Bellamy to teach her how to use a gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY that this took so long, my life has been a complete and utter mess since the last update. Thank you for all the lovely comments on the last chapter, especially the new readers checking in to let me know you're there. I really appreciate it! And I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's just some good clean fun, lol.
> 
> wrt to this chapter: I hope I didn't fuck any of the gun stuff up too much, but if I did, oh well. I've actually done gun safety classes and spent time shooting but my ADHD brain doesn't hold onto info like that very well. You can let me know if I got anything wildly wrong, haha.

Clarke wasn't expecting for Bellamy to plan a day around it, but he got a group of the former delinquents and some guns together and told Sam she’d be taking a day off from the medbay before she could protest.

Clarke decided to bring her bow and a quiver of arrows, and she watched Bellamy tuck his handgun into the holster on his waistband and sling a rifle over his shoulder before they walked out to meet everyone. They’d be hiking a bit to reach the Arkers’ makeshift shooting range. Raven sat atop a horse so she wouldn’t strain her leg.

“I don’t really care about guns,” she said, glancing at Clarke with a smirk, “but I have a feeling this lesson is gonna be pretty entertaining.”

Clarke smiled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

It was an unexpectedly warm day, possibly the last before winter really hit, and she glanced around at the group. They looked like they were taking advantage of it the same way she was, in a tattered sweater and a pair of shorts. Bellamy was wearing a t-shirt, and she gulped when her gaze traced his arms.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road, people,” Miller called as he strode up with Bryan. “I for one want to see how Bellamy’s _wife_ handles a gun.”

“Oh god,” Clarke groaned. “Your friends are the worst.”

Bellamy snorted. “Yeah and you’re stuck with them now.”

She tilted her head at him. “You better be worth it, Blake.”

The group guffawed, and though he tried to hold it back, Bellamy smiled, shaking his head at her.

“Terrible,” he muttered, as they started walking.

 

“So what’s with the bow and arrow?” Harper asked, as they set up targets at the range. A clear pond shone nearby, and Clarke knew from her scouting that this was a popular place for the Arkers to hang out during the summer, especially among the delinquents.

“Sort of my battle specialty,” Clarke said. “I wanted some way to make up for the embarrassment I’m about to face with a gun. Don’t want to seem weak just because my people do things differently.”

Harper nodded, and they walked back to the group.

Bellamy looked at Clarke. “Everyone’s gonna do a few rounds, then some of them will probably wander off. Let’s get you set up.”

All the guns they’d brought were dropped and organized, the group splitting them up by preference, but Bellamy gestured for her to join him with his own, pulling the handgun from his holster and passing it to her. Clarke held it awkwardly, but it felt strangely intimate. This gun was _always_ with Bellamy, always on his hip, and she’d never seen him let anyone else use it.

“Hey,” he called out to the group. “Remember, no one crosses the tree line while we’ve got guns out. Okay, let’s be safe and not stupid, yeah?”

“Yes captain,” Jasper called back. Bellamy rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

“Alright,” Bellamy said quietly, just to Clarke, his full attention on her now. He pulled the gun from her hands to show her the parts, sliding out the magazine so she could see the bullets, then pushing it back in and showing her how to cock it. “The trigger doesn’t take much pressure, so you’ll want to be careful. We can review the parts again at home anytime you want. You can practice taking it apart and putting it back together.”

Clarke’s heart warmed unexpectedly at hearing him say _home,_ but she banished the sentimental feeling before she could get distracted.

“Alright, now let’s work on your stance.”

She nearly gasped when his large, warm hands settled on her hips, turning her a bit, before his foot nudged one of hers and pushed it out a few inches. She just barely suppressed a squeak at feeling his thigh pressed against her own for a moment. But then the first shots rang out, and even though it was the reason they were there, Clarke startled and jumped, her heart racing suddenly. She felt Bellamy chuckling behind her as his hands squeezed her hips gently in what she was sure was an automatic, unthinking response.

“Harper,” he said gently in explanation, as the gun kept firing round after round. Clarke breathed and nodded, having collected herself.

“Okay, back to your stance,” he said, lifting one hand from her hip and holding her hand instead, raising the gun to her eye level as he talked softly about where to look to aim, and breathing through the shot.

“Watch out for the recoil!” Miller called from across the group of kids.

“She’s not even shooting yet, you asshole. The safety’s still on,” Bellamy yelled back. Clarke could hear him smiling.  

“Recoil?” Clarke asked.

“The power of the shot pushes the gun back, _hard_. You wanna make sure you have a good grip on it, but it’s gonna hurt.”

“Got it.”

“Okay, you ready?”

“Ready.”

He guided her hands in the motions, removing the safety and pulling the slide.

“Alright, bullet in the chamber, you’re ready to go. Fire when ready.”

She nodded, and focused on aiming at one of the targets the way he had taught her. But then the group behind them suddenly hushed, and Clarke knew she was being watched as she took her first shot. Bellamy noticed the way she tensed, and trailed his hand up her waist softly. She was grateful for his other hand wrapped firmly around hers on the gun, steadying her unexpected shaking.

“Breathe Clarke,” he whispered into her ear.

She did, and pulled the trigger.

The shot rang through the air.

The recoil threw her hands and the gun back, Bellamy’s grip helping them mostly stay put. Her skin smarted painfully, but she felt flushed with heat as exhilaration barrelled through her.

“Holy shit.”

The group laughed, some applauded and whooped at her.  

“Good,” Bellamy said gruffly, something like a smile in his voice. “Again.”

 

They practiced until Clarke felt confident standing and shooting on her own, and Bellamy picked up another handgun and went through a couple magazines next to her. She got distracted admiring his shoulders only once, and when he noticed she disguised it with a question about his form. _Very smooth, loser_ , she thought to herself.

Bellamy taught her how to use a rifle too, but she didn’t like it as much as the handgun. It was too heavy to feel completely in control of, it was harder to aim, and the recoil punched her shoulder, leaving it tender. Bellamy had chuckled at her shock after the first shot. “Yeah, the kickback’s kind of a bitch.”

When they were finished with the guns, Clarke reached casually for her bow. Bellamy took notice.

“You want me to set up a new target?”

She shook her head. “These ones are fine.”

Most of the group had moved on from the range, some sitting in trees behind them, eating food that they’d brought, and a couple daring kids even venturing into the pond, so Clarke didn’t feel much pressure to perform.

Except for Bellamy, standing there taking in her every move as she pulled an arrow from the quiver on her back and strung it on the bow. But this was such a natural part of her, she hardly had to think.

She shot straight into the center of the target, the arrow making a satisfying _smack_ as it hit. Bellamy whistled quietly. “Impressive.”

She didn’t respond, just strung another arrow, pulled back the bowstring, and released, letting it fly. It wasn’t until the fourth arrow that she caught anyone else’s attention, as Bellamy stood with a hand over his mouth, gaping slightly. Each shot was planted in the next ring out from the bullseye, forming a perfect line of arrows. She heard the hush fall over the delinquents, and they all turned to watch her as she kept going until she was out of arrows.

“Damn Clarke!” Miller called as he walked up, and she laughed.

“This was nothing, really.”

Miller clapped Bellamy on the shoulder. “Can’t believe you managed to marry a sharpshooter just like you without even knowing it.”

Bellamy looked away, embarrassed, but she couldn’t figure out why, so she left to collect her arrows.

When she came back, Bellamy was gone, and she glanced around to see him at the edge of the pond with Miller.

Bryan walked up to her. “He’s about to throw him in,” he said.

“What?” But then Clarke saw Miller wrap his arm around Bellamy’s waist and dive for the water, the momentum propelling them both under. They surfaced a moment later, Miller whooping from the cold and Bellamy shaking out his hair, grinning despite himself.

“You’re such a fucking dick,” he said, laughing.

Clarke appreciated the way the water plastered Bellamy’s shirt against his chest, but she turned to Bryan after a moment.

“You weren’t one of the delinquents.”

He shook his head. “No, I was from Farm Station, we got dropped in Ice Nation territory…”

“I remember,” Clarke said, frowning. “I’m sorry that happened.”

He looked at her, his eyes going cold for a second. “Your marriage is supposed to stop things like that from happening again, right?”

Clarke nodded.

“Well,” he said, his throat sticking. “Better get it right then.”

Clarke grabbed his wrist to stop him as he turned away. “I will,” she said softly. “We will.”

 

Bellamy left his shirt to dry on a tree and then sprawled out on a patch of grass to sunbathe with the others and dry the rest of him. Clarke wandered over, dropping next to him and resting back on her elbows, turning her face to the sun. Bellamy stretched, and brought an arm to circle her, not touching, just there. She turned to him, trying not to let her eyes stick on his bare chest.

“Thank you for teaching me.”

He smiled.

“Yeah. Anytime.”

Clarke closed her eyes and laid down completely, letting herself drift off against Bellamy.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop some kudos (you don't have to be logged in!) or a comment to let me know you liked the chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on TMTWH: Bellamy takes Clarke on a day out with some of the former delinquents to teach her how to use a gun. They have a good time and she surprises everyone with her archery skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, no spoilers, but... smut ahead. So, proper warning and the story is rated for a reason :)

“You know, I’ve been thinking...” Bellamy said as they walked into their cabin to settle in for the night.

“Yes?” Clarke asked.  

They both turned their backs and began undressing for bed. They were used to the routine by now.

“I just haven’t been able to get something out of my mind after seeing you shoot like that today—with the arrows, I mean.”

“Okay.”

“It’s just, there was something that happened when we first landed and we were still living at the dropship. There was a kid who left camp one day, only he didn’t go that far. And he came back running, screaming, with an arrow right through the palm of his hand.”

Clarke froze in the middle of taking off her shirt, wincing.

“I mean, we knew it was a grounder, but. You wouldn’t happen to know anything else about that, would you?”

She turned slowly to face him. He raised an eyebrow in question, but it wasn’t accusatory.

“Yeah, that was me,” she said quietly.

Bellamy waited for her to finish and get into bed first, as he always did, so that she could have the spot closest to the fire. She stayed sitting upright, but he laid back, his hands resting behind his head and a patient—but expectant—look on his face.

Clarke sighed.

“I’m assuming you had a good reason.”

“You remember Aster?” Clarke asked.

It took Bellamy a second. “Uh, yeah. Mousy little fifteen-year-old when we landed? She died from the hemorrhaging virus your people sent.”

“Right.” Clarke nodded. “She was there too. He was…” Clarke trailed off and looked away, her throat sticking as she tried to voice it.

Bellamy caught on a moment later. “Whoa, what?”

“He was assaulting her,” Clarke said forcefully, the words pushing out of her. “Or, trying to. I stopped him.”

“Holy shit,” Bellamy said lowly. “I had no idea. You know he died from that wound? It got infected and we couldn’t treat it.”

“Good,” Clarke said coldly.

Bellamy laughed softly, but he placed a large, warm hand on her back. “I’m… impressed? Yeah, I think I’m impressed.” He grew serious again. “Aster never said anything.”

Clarke shrugged. “That’s not really surprising. She was probably embarrassed, worried no one would believe her.”

Bellamy nodded, then moved his hand to tug on her arm. “Come on.”

He didn’t need to say anything else. Clarke settled down next to him easily, fitting herself into a pocket of space at his side. This—talking in bed, sleeping so close to one another, though mostly for warmth—was their most intimate, and Clarke loved it.

 

Clarke woke to early morning light slanting through the curtained window and Bellamy pressed against her back. He usually got up first, and she’d stir awake when he left their bed or as he shuffled around the cabin. He almost always had early guard shifts, so he’d grab whatever he could from the kitchens to eat during watch and Clarke would have breakfast in the mess alone or with whichever delinquents happened to be around.

Clarke figured her nap in the sun yesterday must have thrown her off and made her restless, but she didn’t mind. She closed her eyes, determined to savor the feeling of Bellamy’s arm around her waist and his warm breath against her neck for as long as he’d stay asleep.

She was just starting to drift off again when Bellamy shifted, his arm tightening, and she nearly gasped.

_Oh god._

This wasn’t the first time she’d been aware of Bellamy’s arousal in the morning, of course. But usually she was less awake. Usually they weren’t in quite so close a position. Usually, Bellamy’s erection wasn’t nudged right against the soft curve of her backside, and his hand wasn’t gripping her ribs.

 _Oh god_ , she thought again, biting her lip. Clarke felt the rush of her own arousal in response, the throb of her empty cunt and the overwhelming urge to rock back against him until he woke up as out of breath and affected as she was. She resisted, grasping the bed-furs tightly in her hands instead. She dug her nails into them and released a tiny whimper as she let herself focus completely on every inch of Bellamy that she could feel.

Half a dozen scenarios flashed through her mind—Bellamy, awake and rolling on top of her, just a few hurried movements to get their underwear off before he’s kissing her neck and thrusting into her with a groan, or Clarke turning in his arms and sinking beneath the furs to explore him with her mouth until he comes with his hands pulling her hair, or his hand moving from her ribs to her waistband, inching underneath at her urging and drawing slow, torturous circles around her clit, or kissing until both their mouths are raw, or Bellamy kneeling between her legs, sucking bruises into the insides of her thighs until she begs him to stop teasing her, or gripping her ass as he pulls her onto his lap, their foreheads brushing and their breathing heavy as she takes control with the rocking of her hips.

She pulled herself out of the fantasies. She felt like she might go crazy from wanting him, but Bellamy moved again, shifting slightly as he began to wake up. Clarke felt his firm weight like brand, burning into her skin, and she tried not to choke on her breath as she kept perfectly still.

Bellamy groaned and rolled over, away from her, awake now. The sound sent a jolt through her, but the loss of his heat made her feel suddenly chilled—until he reached over and pulled the furs up to her neck, carefully bundling her in warmth as he left their bed. The action, so small but so earnest, had Clarke biting back a smile.

He added a log to the dying fire, and then she heard the door between their cabin and their tiny bathroom swing shut, and Bellamy starting the shower. Five minutes then, at least.

Clarke turned onto her back and let her hand drift into her underwear, the way she had just imagined Bellamy’s hand doing. A desperate moan tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop it. Her clit was swollen and her cunt was drenched, and the first pass of her fingers set her heart racing and her imagination running wild again.

Bellamy was in the shower, with an erection that had just been spooned against her body. Bellamy was, in all likelihood, seeking release. Clarke hoped he was thinking about her as he did, because she was certainly thinking about him as her fingers frantically stroked her clit, gasping at the image her brain conjured up of Bellamy with one hand planted on the wall of the shower to keep him steady.

Clarke groaned. This was agony. Being so close to him every night, spending so much time with him every day, and keeping a polite distance all the while. She wished that he was on top of her right now, that she could run her hands through his hair, breathe in the scent of his skin, feel his hips colliding with hers as he thrust into her. Instead she had to settle for her much less satisfying fingers.

She just wished that she could be closer to him. Closer, closer, closer, in every way she could imagine. She wanted her husband.

And that’s what she was thinking when the attention to her clit became almost too much, when she kept pushing anyway, picturing Bellamy’s face and his body, the word _husband_ sticking in her mind as her hips jolted up into the insistent press of her fingers.

She wanted her husband, wanted Bellamy pinning her down, catching her hands and not letting go and dragging her through the pleasure that she _wanted_ him to take from her, that she had already offered and he had turned away.

Clarke’s heavy breathing halted as she came, a soft gasp punctuating each breath as her toes curled and her eyes squeezed shut and her body felt lit from end to end like a live wire. She drew it out as long as she could stand.

“Oh,” she sighed as her fingers finally stopped working, a dazed smile settling on her face. She freed her hand and turned over, letting out a short giggle. She’d just had a world-rocking orgasm, daydreaming about her husband while he was only a room away, and she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but satisfied by it.

She heard the shower turn off, and instead of facing the wall and pretending to be asleep, she stayed put, curled up and facing the cabin, holding the covers under her chin, her eyes open and waiting for Bellamy when he walked through the door a moment later.

“Oh,” he said, when he saw that she was awake. “Morning.” He was in nothing but his underwear, his hair wet and messy, and his cheeks bright pink.

Clarke blinked slowly and smiled in response, curious if she looked the same, absent the wet hair, and if he’d take notice of it. “Morning.”

She bit her lip as she watched him dress for the day, something stupidly sexy about the way he pulled his clothes _on_ , which made her feel like the universe must be laughing at her.

He had left his boots by their bed the night before, so he sat down on the mattress to put them on. Clarke felt the dip pull her closer, and they were separated by only a few inches of blankets and empty air. She wondered if he felt electricity crackling between them like she did, or if this was just ordinary and flat to him.

“Is the fire warm enough?” he asked.

She nodded, and let herself look at his face. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Yeah, um. Have a good day.” He stopped at the door, his eyes lingering on her.

“You too.”

He nodded, then left, and Clarke covered her face, grinning.

 

Of all the things that surprised Clarke when she moved to Arkadia, possibly the most unexpected was Finn Collins.

He liked her. He frequently sat next to her at meals, especially when Bellamy wasn’t around. And when Bellamy was with her, Finn seemed to have his eyes glued on their every move.

She couldn’t figure him out, but it felt too strange to bring the topic up with Bellamy, so she tried to brush it off.

It’s not that no one else liked her—plenty of the delinquents were friendly and welcoming, but it always felt more casual with them. Finn seemed serious and intense around her, and the smiles he flashed her way felt different.

Clarke was used to following her gut, but she could see that Bellamy’s people valued amiability more than her own, and she didn’t want to offend. So she smiled back, and made conversation, and did her best to ignore the minor irritation she felt when he was around.

And really, there was nothing _wrong_ with him. Clarke just thought he was immature and brash, but it was nothing she couldn’t tolerate, if she had to. She just wished that he would take less of an interest in her so she wouldn’t have to.

So it shouldn’t have surprised her when he appeared at her side while she ate breakfast alone in the mess hall that morning. Or when he asked to spend the day with her.

She tried to hide her eye-roll, but she couldn’t stop the thought that followed. _Well, there goes my post-orgasm glow_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me some kudos and comments to let me know what you think :) You can also hit me up on tumblr if you so desire, I'm there at [notyourdaisybuchanan](http://notyourdaisybuchanan.tumblr.com).


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on TMTWH: Bellamy realized Clarke was involved in one of his memories from the dropship. Clarke was super into her husband and imagined being able to bang him. 
> 
> This chapter: Luna comes for a visit, Bellamy learns more about Clarke's past, and they inch closer once again. The slow burn burns on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dearest readers, I love y'all, but I know how many subscribers this story has, and I see the bump in views every time I update, and then I see how many comments each chapter gets. Basically, I know exactly how many of y'all are ghost-reading. Please consider leaving a comment if you haven't! Also, I like criticism too, because it makes me happy to know that people are really thinking about my story and engaging with it, and also because I like to improve! I would like to remind everyone of the good old days, when some authors would hold updates hostage until they reached a certain number of comments. I won't do that, because I'm nice and it's embarrassing, but let's not get spoiled by frequent updates. Also I definitely recognize those of you who frequently comment on my work, and I love you ;) 
> 
> In other notes, I struggled a bit with this chapter because I never intended to include characters or worldbuilding from season three or four, but now I sort of have and I was cringing and basically thinking "I WILL NOT INCLUDE THE WORD CONCLAVE IN THIS FIC, I WILL NOT, I REFUSE." I'm not going to get into it in the fic since Lexa is mostly spoken of but unseen, but in my ideal world this canonverse doesn't include nightbloods or the flame. But Luna kind of complicates that so??? Idk, let your brain do whatever it wants with that. Also Octavia's involvement in this fic is so different and complicated now than it was when I initially planned it post-season two, which is kind of why she's disappeared a bit. Idk. Ack, sorry. Struggles all around lol. She'll be back I just gotta figure out what tf to do with her.

 

“How was your day, princess?” Bellamy’s voice made Clarke shiver as he sat next to her in the mess hall with a bowl of chili and half a loaf of bread, which he passed to her so she could rip off a chunk. She smiled at him gratefully.

“It was fine. Would’ve been better if Finn hadn’t followed me everywhere I went, but whatever.”

Bellamy’s brow furrowed. “All day? Didn’t he have work to do?”

“You would think,” Clarke grumbled. “What does he do, anyway?”

“Odds and ends. He calls himself a tracker, but that stopped being useful after about the first month on the ground.”

Clarke snorted, covering her mouth. Bellamy grinned at her.

“I’ll find a job for him. Make him sort laundry if I have to.”

“Thanks.”

Raven settled across from them a minute later, definitively ending all talk of Finn.

“You know Luna’s on her way?” Raven asked Bellamy.

“No, did she radio?”

Raven nodded. “She’s about a day out.”

“Wait,” Clarke interrupted. “Luna? From floukru?”

“Yeah, she visits every couple of months.”

“Huh. I haven’t seen her in a while. Does she know I’m here?”

Bellamy and Raven exchanged a glance. “I don’t think so,” Raven said. “Why?”

Clarke shook her head. “Just wondering.”

 

“Okay,” Bellamy said that night as they were lying in bed. “What was that during dinner?”

“What?”

“About Luna. I know you were thinking something you weren’t saying. What was it?”

Clarke rolled over to face him. “How much do you know about the way our commanders are chosen?”

Bellamy frowned. “Next to nothing. What does that have to do with Luna?”

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up, and she explained the archaic process, and how Luna had walked away in the middle of it after killing her brother.

“You didn’t know any of this?” she asked. Bellamy shook his head.

“Don’t act differently around her, okay? That really wasn’t for me to share.”

“Yeah, of course. That’s all you were thinking about earlier?”

“Oh, no. I was thinking about how Lexa doesn’t like that Luna’s still alive.”

Bellamy’s jaw dropped.

‘She feels like it’s a threat to her power, which it is, even if Luna doesn’t want it. I was thinking that it seems dangerous for her to leave the rig—any reminder that she’s alive could tempt fate. If word got back to Lexa…”

“And will it?” Bellamy asked.

Clarke’s head tilted slightly, considering him. “Not from me.”

“Good.”

“I don’t think Luna would be visiting if she knew I was here, though. I’ll have to talk to her.”

“Don’t scare her off,” Bellamy warned.

“What?”

“She makes Raven really happy. And Raven’s been through enough.”

Understanding colored Clarke’s face. “Oh.” She smiled. Now it made sense why Luna was willing to take the risk.

It was the same reason Clarke was in the middle of an arranged marriage with Bellamy, and _happy_ about it.

“Trust me, I don’t think I could scare her off if I tried.”

 

Clarke and Lincoln met Luna at Arkadia’s main gate the next morning. She looked confused to see Clarke for a moment, but quickly masked it.

“Clarke,” she said, offering a traditional grounder handshake, all formality and politeness and her usual sea-like serenity. “What brings you here?”

“My husband,” Clarke said, enjoying the shock that crossed her face. “Bellamy and I were married to seal a treaty, to protect his people.”

“Your people, now,” Luna said, lifting an eyebrow.

Clarke smiled. “Yes, my people now.”

“Come, walk with me. Tell me about what I’ve missed,” Luna said, and Clarke and Lincoln both obliged.

 

Bellamy sat across from Luna and Raven at lunch. Clarke was absent, probably held up in the medbay with Sam.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, when the pair looked up from where they had been speaking closely.

“Don’t apologize,” Luna said. She looked at him appraisingly. “Should I offer my congratulations?”

“I’d rather you did something else.”

“Go on.”

“Tell me what you think of my wife. Can I trust her? I mean, I think I can. It feels like I can. But maybe I’m just too easily fooled. Just—tell me I’m not being an idiot keeping her in Arkadia, letting her see everything we’re capable of and all of our weaknesses.”

Luna considered him seriously, while Raven had a look on her face he couldn’t read.

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t know her better. She wasn’t in Polis before I left, so most of what I know is what Lincoln has told me, and he likes her. He trusts her, if that means something to you.”

Bellamy cleared his throat. “It does.”

“Good. I can’t speak to her character, or her loyalty, but she’s not a spy, Bellamy.”

“She literally spied on us the entire time we were living at the dropship,” he deadpanned.

Luna rolled her eyes. “So did Lincoln, and you know that’s not what I mean. A guard post is not the same as a mole. She’s a warrior, and a healer, but I doubt she’s here for clan secrets. She’s not the person they would send for something like that. And I don’t know if this would make you feel better or worse, but… knowing their history, I’m honestly shocked Lexa even agreed to this. It’s odd. I can’t imagine how much Clarke had to fight for it to happen.”

Bellamy frowned, unsure what to make of this.

“Hard to think she’d go to such lengths if she didn’t intend on being loyal.”

He nodded, wanting to believe it, but unable to find any words one way or the other.

“Besides,” Luna said, “she showed you her village, didn’t she? The one in the trees?”

“Yeah. We stayed there for a month.”

“Not exactly something they share easily. Must mean she trusts _you_ , right? And people with no loyalty never trust anyone else with their own secrets.”

Bellamy ignored the way this made his breath catch in his chest. He was just relieved that he hadn’t screwed anything up for his own people. That was all.

 

Luna stayed for a week, and Bellamy watched how Clarke interacted with her, and with Lincoln. She seemed so comfortable around them, and Bellamy couldn’t help but note that Luna and Lincoln weren’t the typical grounders he was used to. Lincoln was just as much a sky person as trikru at this point, and floukru as a clan was so wildly different than any of the other grounders they had encountered. Bellamy wondered if their differences were why they seemed to band together so easily.

He decided to ask her about it the night before Luna left.

“Clarke.”

“Hmm?” she responded distractedly from where she was reading in bed.

“I’ve been thinking.”

Clarke put her book down and looked up.

“Luna and Lincoln… they seem like the odd ones out, when it comes to all the grounders I’ve met. And… so do you, I guess.”

“You mean because we’re not bloodthirsty trolls?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Bellamy laughed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s always seemed like a stupid way to live, to me. Everyone ends up dying young, and it’s just useless. And there’s no stability. Lexa will probably be dead in five years from a coup and we’ll all get tossed around in the aftermath and the power struggle.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

Clarke shrugged. “It’s what she agreed to. It’s her life. You can’t make someone care about growing old if they don’t want to. She could try to change the traditions, but she won't.”

“But Luna and Lincoln, that’s why you get on with them so well?”

“We’re all outsiders. Them, because they chose something different. And me, because...”

“Because you chose me?” Bellamy asked.

“No, actually. Because I wasn’t born here.”

“What?” Bellamy’s voice was shocked.

“I’m only sort of trikru. I was born somewhere south of here, and out of reach of the clans. My mother has always practiced medicine, and when I was ten, she was… recruited, so to speak, by the previous commander when illness struck. My father wanted to return to our home, but my mother liked it here, so we became a part of trikru, and most people don’t even remember that we ever weren’t.”

“What was it like, where you were born?”

“Warmer.” Clarke smiled. “Different. More like here, like Arkadia.”

“What do you mean?”

“More like a community. And there’s technology. Less killing. The people who do have weapons have guns instead of swords.”

Bellamy smiled at that. Clarke paused, took a breath, tried to sound casual.

“We could go sometime, if you want to.”

Bellamy looked up at her suddenly, their eyes meeting across the room.

“I haven’t left clan territory in a long time, but there’s more to the world than this place, these grounders. You should see it.”

“Yeah, okay.” Bellamy looked down. “Someday.”

“Good. You coming to bed?”

He nodded. “In a minute.”

 

Clarke woke up to Bellamy shuddering and mumbling in his sleep. She sat up, but it took a moment to get her bearings through the grogginess, and she squinted at the window before realizing it was still the middle of the night.

Clarke wasn’t sure whether she should try to wake him or let it pass on its own until his voice grew louder, and she could hear clearly the way he kept repeating his sister’s name, interspersed with pleading and the word “no” over and over again.

“Bellamy!” She shook his shoulder. “Bellamy, please.”

He woke with a gasp.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Clarke soothed. “Just a dream. It was just a dream.”

He nodded, breathing hard. “I know, I know.” He covered his face with both hands. “Jesus, sorry. It was just—Mount Weather.”

“In the cages?” Clarke asked, her blood chilling.

Bellamy shook his head. “Irradiating it.”

Pain swept through Clarke. He wasn’t reliving his own torment, when he thought death was inches away. He was reliving the suffering that he had inflicted.

“Does this happen a lot?”

“No, not very much anymore. But I’ll never… I’ll never forget it.”

“I understand,” Clarke whispered. She sometimes still had nightmares about the battles she’d been in.

Bellamy sniffed and then turned over, facing away from her. She flopped down next to him, considering his back.

She wanted… she wasn’t sure what she wanted. In a moment like this, there was too much of it to parse through. She settled for placing one small hand between his shoulder blades, and felt him exhale shakily. She took that as a good sign, and traced her fingertips over his back, dragging her nails against his shirt. The tension in him relaxed beneath her touch.

“Is this okay?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” Bellamy’s voice rasped back. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later, when her drooping eyes made it impossible to keep going, she looped her arm over his waist and nudged her forehead against his back. The last thread of her consciousness felt his hand meet hers, and lace their fingers together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this installment! I've been thinking about creating a playlist of the music I've been listening to while working on this fic, is that something that any of you would be interested in? I've also been thinking about making a tumblr tag for my ramblings, complaints, struggles, etc. while writing, is anyone interested in that? Let me know. And now, here's some sample comments that you can copy/paste if you don't know what else to say. They range from mild like to deep and abiding love, so choose wisely:
> 
> -The kudos button told me I've already left kudos, and it's dumb af that you can't leave multiple kudos so here's this comment instead! I liked the chapter!
> 
> -This was a great chapter! Really enjoying the fic, keep it up!
> 
> -OMG, this was awesome!! I love this story, I hope you can update soon!
> 
> -You are a GODDESS, this story is EVERYTHING TO ME, I think about it every night as I'm falling asleep and I won't have peace until you've completed it. PLS UPDATE SOON SO I CAN LIVE!!!
> 
> Or you can craft your own ;) Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on TMTWH: Luna visited Arkadia, Bellamy learned more about Clarke's past, and they got a little closer when she comforted him after a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter! And much longer than usual. Thank you for all of the comments on the last chapter, I really appreciated them, and it was nice to hear from some of you first time commenters!
> 
> With what I've got planned, I'm guessing this fic is going to be around 18 chapters when completed. Lots of good stuff coming up that I'm excited to share with you guys!

Bellamy couldn’t decide if the first two months of their marriage had passed quickly or slowly. The talks for the treaty and the wedding ceremony felt like just yesterday, but the month he’d spent in Clarke’s village in the trees and the month she’d spent in Arkadia felt like ages.

He hadn’t ever really known how nice it could be to have someone to come home to at the end of the day. But it was. Clarke was always there, and bright and warm and she _liked_ him, though he didn’t know why. He felt shockingly close to her--much closer than he ever expected they would become when he agreed to marry her. But their situation seemed to lend itself to familiarity and friendship that happened with a kind of quick intensity which would have startled him if it hadn’t felt so natural.

Things weren’t always perfect--they’d clashed on a few occasions, most notably just the week before when Bellamy was angry about Kane radioing from the Mount Weather settlement and demanding some of Arkadia’s resources, food that Bellamy had been working hard to store and that they _would_ need, even if they had a surplus at the moment. Bellamy had stormed into the cabin that night angry, fresh from the altercation, and shoved his jacket off before throwing it across the room, shortly followed by his walkie chucked to the same spot. Then he turned around and realized Clarke was there, sitting up in bed and watching him.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine.” He gritted out.

“Are you sure? We can--”

“I’m fine, Clarke. Leave it alone,” he yelled before he could think better of it.

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up, and then she rolled over, facing the wall rather than him, and didn’t talk to him the rest of the night. Bellamy was too embarrassed to even try to speak to her anyway.

The next morning when he got up for the day, he waited for her to open her eyes.

“Hey,” he said gently, waiting until she looked at him. “I’m sorry I snapped at you last night.”

Clarke considered him for a nerve-wracking moment as her expression gave nothing away.

“Okay,” she whispered back, nodding. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, right, well…” he trailed off, feeling awkward and unsure. Clarke didn’t look quite satisfied, but he got up and finished getting ready. She told him to have a good day when he left the cabin, and things were back to normal by lunch.

The cause of that little dispute was actually the reason Bellamy now had to leave camp for a few days, to head to Mount Weather and hammer things out with Kane. He wanted to see the situation for himself before he decided to sacrifice anything from his own people. He knew he wasn’t supposed to think that way, that all of the Arkers were his people, even the ones living in Mount Weather, but he couldn’t help it. Arkadia was _his_ , and those were the people he would sacrifice anything for. Those were the people he married a complete stranger for.

He finished packing and shouldered his backpack, turning to Clarke. She had offered to go with him, and though he could see the curiosity in her eyes, he could also see the hesitation. Her dad had died in Mount Weather, and Bellamy decided that this wasn’t the time to find out whether she could stand being in the tomb that had sucked her people dry for as long as anyone could remember. Bellamy could barely stand being there himself.

“Be safe.”

He cleared his throat. “I will. You’ll be fine here by yourself?”

Clarke nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in three days.”

“Three days,” she agreed. “I’ll be here.”

Clarke smiled, and Bellamy smiled, and then Miller knocked on their open door.

“Time to go, man,” he said.

“Yep,” Bellamy said gruffly, looking at Clarke one last time before turning away.

“Later Clarke!” Miller called.

“Later Miller. Bring him home safe.”

Miller met her grin with his own. “Always do.”

 

They got to the mountain in just a few hours in the rover, and ducked inside to their usual bunk without running into anyone. Bellamy’s skin prickled uncomfortably, but he pushed the feeling down as much as he could. He noticed the tension in Miller’s shoulders too, and was glad that at least he wasn’t alone in hating this place.

“Well, let’s get this over with,” he suggested. Miller nodded, and together they walked out into the maze of the mountain.

They spent their time going over every detail of life at the underground compound, troubleshooting why they were experiencing a food shortage and how their other protective measures might fail similarly if they weren’t able to fix the root issues.

In the end, Bellamy did agree to help, though he put serious limits on it, and had an intense talk with Kane to remind him that there was only so much he was willing to do when it meant his people’s suffering in exchange.

The chancellor wasn’t particularly happy, but Bellamy didn’t care. Arkadia was more important. His responsibilities were too important, and he wouldn’t have all his work be for nothing. He wouldn’t have his people suffer for anyone else’s failure. He would take care of them, through anything.

 

Clarke spent the first two days that Bellamy was away keeping busy in the medbay with Sam, and spending time with Bellamy’s friends when she could. Bryan showed her the chickens that he and Miller raised for the camp, she had dinner with Monty and Raven, Harper tried to teach her to knit, and Monroe wanted to hear more about grounder weapons and whether she thought the new treaty would actually keep Arkadia from being attacked again.

Everything was good--except for how cold the bed was each night without Bellamy. She tried to ignore how much she missed him, but the reality was, Clarke hadn’t decided to marry him for nothing. She’d had a crush on him ever since the early days of watching him at the dropship, and when the idea of a marriage for the alliance was raised and then quickly disregarded, Clarke seized it and argued for it. A marriage to Bellamy was a foolish dream perhaps, but it was an opportunity, it was something they could build. And the time she had spent as his wife had only made her like him more, and miss him more now that he was away. Which is why on the third night, Clarke bundled up and left their bed in the early morning to watch the sunrise outside.

She sighed. Bellamy would be home today, hopefully.

She was appreciating the way the sky lit with streaks of orange on the clouds when she heard Finn approaching. She looked up at him.

“Are you usually awake at this hour?”

He shrugged. “Insomnia.”

“Ah. You wanna sit?”

“Yeah,” he said, with the wide smile that was probably supposed to be charming. He took the spot next to her.

She thought maybe they could just enjoy the view in silence, but he started making small talk, so she obliged. He asked a bit about her life, and she answered the questions that weren’t too personal and edged around the ones that were.

When the sunrise had finished and left behind an ordinary morning, Clarke stood to return to her cabin. She was distracted with thoughts of Bellamy when Finn stood as well, grabbing her arm and saying, “Clarke, wait.”

In the second that it took for her to freeze, her free hand was already on the knife hidden at her waist.

“Finn.” Her voice was cold. “Let go of me.”

He hardly seemed to register her command for what it was--a threat--and kept his hold. “Clarke. I want to,” he stuttered, “to talk to you.”

He barely got the words out before Clarke spun and had the knife pressed against his throat.

“Unhand me,” she growled.

Finn gaped, then released her and raised both hands. “I’m sorry. I just want to talk.” Clarke moved the knife away from his neck.

“Talking does not require touching me when you have no invitation to do so.”

“You’re right,” he said carefully. When Clarke did nothing but nod and continue scowling, he sighed. “I would like to touch you though.”

“What?” Clarke’s brow furrowed. What was he talking about? And then-- _Oh_ , she realized.

“I like you,” Finn said, and a part of her winced at how weak he sounded, practically pleading already. “And I think you like me too.”

 _Arrogance,_ Clarke thought angrily. “You’re mistaken.” Her voice was icy enough to freeze a lake, but Finn hardly seemed to notice.

“We could have something special, Clarke.”

She looked at him incredulously. Was he seriously propositioning her while Bellamy had been gone only a few days? “And what is that Finn? What could we possibly have together when I already have a husband?” Her chin was held so high she thought she might strain her neck.

“Each other,” he said, and she scoffed so quickly he looked defensive for the first time. “I know you don’t have anything real with Bellamy.”

“You’re wrong.” And he was. She and Bellamy might not have been living in bliss, but she would take her sometimes-strained relationship with him over a peaceful one with someone else any day. She certainly didn’t want Finn. She would rather be alone than have Finn, and she bristled at the idea that her relationship with Bellamy wasn’t _real_ just because it wasn’t romantic or sexual yet.

“Of course I am, princess.”

“Don’t call me that!” she hissed.

Finn looked momentarily shocked at her fury.

“That name is not yours to use.”

“Fine, just listen to me. I know you and Bellamy aren’t in love. I know your marriage is hardly a marriage.”

“You know _nothing_ about my marriage,” Clarke interjected, but Finn was already carrying on.

“I’d be willing to bet he never even touches you! I could give you that, Clarke. It’s okay. Your marriage was a business arrangement, and I understand. I can give you what he won’t. I can make you happy. I’m in love with you.”

Clarke gaped for a moment, but quickly regained her anger. “You don’t even know the meaning of the word! You met me a month ago, we’ve had, what, five conversations? And you don’t know the first thing about making me happy! If you did, we would not be having _this_ conversation.”

“If you only knew about all the girls Bellamy was with before you…” Finn said, his voice full of pity.

“You mean if I only knew that Bellamy slept with every willing woman in the hundred when you landed here?” Clarke asked. Finn looked suitably shocked.

“You cannot tell me anything about my husband that I don’t already know. Who he bedded before he married me is none of my concern. But yes, I know about all the women. Just like I know you slept with another girl only a day before Raven dropped to earth in a pod, nearly killing herself to get to you!” Finn blanched. “Just like I know you broke both of their hearts, let that girl think your heart was available, never even _mentioned_ that you were with another back on the Ark! Just like I know she died as much from the heartbreak as from the hemorrhaging virus my people sent. So yes, I know about Bellamy’s women, just like I know about yours.” Clarke let out a cold laugh. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by what you’re offering me.”

“Clarke,” he pleaded.

“No! I’ve entertained you long enough.” She was still brandishing her knife, and Finn seemed to realize for the first time the danger she posed standing angry and armed in front of him.

“I am married. And to one of your friends!”

Finn sneered, “Bellamy’s not my friend.”

Clarke tilted her chin up again. “Then you’re even more of a fool than I thought you were. Bellamy is twice the man you are, and if you think I’m not happy with him, it’s only evidence of how little you know me. Even if I were _miserable_ with him, it would still be happier than I could ever be with you. Even if I was doomed to spend the rest of my life alone, I would choose that over ever being with you!” Very slowly, she said, “You disgust me.” Finn flinched back, but Clarke wasn’t finished. “As it is, you would do well to learn that the way Bellamy and I act in public, especially with his role as a leader, is not the same way we act in the privacy of our home.”

Clarke couldn’t help it – she would lie through her teeth before letting Finn know that he had guessed correctly when he assumed her marriage was unconsummated, damn him. “You would do well to remember that who I allow to touch me is none of your business, but as it is, Bellamy is the _only_ person with that right, and you know nothing about the intimacy of our marriage. And I'm quite satisfied enough by him to not be looking for anyone else to take his place.” She tilted her head slightly, intent on making Finn feel his mistake.

“Clarke. Don’t do this.”

“You had better not find yourself alone with me ever again, Finn Collins. If you do, I won’t hesitate the way I did today.”

“What does that mean?”

“Why don't you come closer, and find out?”

“You wouldn’t,” he said, and Clarke felt a thrum of satisfaction that he finally sounded scared.

Clarke raised one eyebrow. “Try me,” she snarled. “And don’t forget that as Bellamy’s _wife_ , he will believe me before he ever believes you.” She lifted an eyebrow. “And for that matter, so will his people. _Your_ people.”

She took a step closer to him, putting her face bitingly close to his. “And just in case I didn’t make it clear enough, I will _never_ betray my husband. Not for you or anyone else. Now get out of my sight before I decide you deserve punishment for daring to touch me.”

Finn turned and moved quickly away, looking thoroughly beaten and flustered. _Good,_ Clarke thought, _imbecile_. But she deflated the moment he was out of sight, falling back into her seat with a disappointed sigh.

 

Bellamy heard the entire exchange. So did Miller.

When they had fallen asleep in their bunk the night before, it was with the intention of waking at first light and making their way back to camp. But Bellamy slept fitfully until he finally sat up, glancing down at his watch. Clarke’s father’s watch, the one she gave him during their engagement. Three-thirty. His heart panged at the thought of her, probably asleep in their cabin, alone in their bed. He knew that the feeling of being trapped in Mount Weather and reliving all of his worst memories was only part of why he was sleeping so terribly. It may have only been two months, and they may not do anything except sleep, but he had already grown used to having Clarke next to him every night.

Bellamy lay back down, but he knew before he tried that it was useless.

“Miller.” He said. It took a few more attempts, but finally his second stirred.

“What’s up man?” He sounded groggy, but not grumpy.

“There’s no way I’m getting any more sleep tonight.” Bellamy tried to make his voice sound apologetic, but he wasn’t so sure it worked.

“Do you want to head out now?” Miller asked.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind?”

“I don’t. You’ve got a wife to get back to, after all,” he said teasingly.

“Yeah, yeah.” But Bellamy thought that maybe they’d be back before dawn, and maybe he would be able to join Clarke in bed for a few more hours.

And that was how Bellamy found himself on the outside of the electric fence, he and Miller making their way around to the entrance after parking the rover, when he saw Finn grab his wife and watched her press a knife to his neck. He hadn’t had much opportunity to see her in action, and he had to admit he was pretty damn proud of her reflexes. He stopped instantly, but tried to wave Miller to continue, only to receive a firm shake of his head and a muttered, “there’s no way I’m missing this shit,” before he planted himself next to Bellamy.

And then they had watched together, as Finn propositioned his wife and she shut him down so hard he should have had a concussion. Pride swelled in his chest each second they stood, as she defended him, defended his stupid nickname even, defended their marriage. He couldn’t help the swoop of his stomach when Clarke declared him twice the man Finn was, or the way his breathing quickened when Clarke was talking about them, about their intimacy, and she was definitely lying, but he was glad. She seemed so offended by Finn’s assumption that their marriage was celibate. Was she mad because she didn’t like Finn being right? Or was she angry because she wished it were otherwise? In any case, her final threats to Finn left Bellamy and Miller with mouths gaping in awe.

“Holy shit,” Miller whispered as Finn scurried away from Clarke, “your wife’s a badass.”

Bellamy let out a small chuckle of appreciation. “Yeah, she is. I’m just glad she can take care of herself.”

“Do you uh, mind if I tell Bryan about this?” Miller asked haltingly. Bellamy thought of the laugh Bryan would have, and that they would both be more cautious around Finn.

“Just don’t embarrass Clarke.”

“You got it man. Now let’s get in there,” he nodded toward camp. “Clarke looks like she could use some cheering up.”

Bellamy shook his head wryly, but he didn’t object when Miller split from him at the entrance to the gate and tilted his head in the direction where Clarke had been.

When Bellamy made it to her, she was sitting where Finn left her, and her knife was still in her hand.

“Expecting a fight, princess?” he called when he was close enough.

“Bellamy!” Her whole face lit as she turned, and Bellamy felt it like a punch to the stomach as she hid her knife and rushed toward him, grinning. She stopped just a couple steps away. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Couldn’t sleep, figured we might as well head back. What are you doing out here?”

“I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Sounds like we both need to go back to bed.”

Clarke nodded quickly, then scolded herself. _God Clarke, no need to look so fucking eager._ Their hands found each other as they both turned in the direction of their cabin. When they reached it, Bellamy immediately began stripping his outer layers, and Clarke had to sit down to remove her boots to keep from getting distracted. _He was only gone a few days. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, get a grip woman._

Bellamy was the first to get into bed. He watched as Clarke peeled off her scarf, her jacket, then her pants, leaving her in a sweater, her underwear, and her socks. But when she didn’t get in bed, Bellamy called to her.

“Clarke.”

“Huh?” She turned.

“Get over here. I’m cold,” he joked. She shook her head, but a soft smile played on her lips as she moved to the bed.

“Fine,” she said petulantly, but she settled under the covers, turning on her side and fitting her back against Bellamy’s torso, pulling his arm over her waist.

“You okay?” he said into her shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Clarke said. She could feel his pulse where she held his wrist. “I’m glad you’re back,” she said softly.

“So am I.”

 

Clarke was pleased when Finn noticeably avoided her, but then confused when Miller and Bryan gave her appraising looks and approving nods.

The confusion increased when Octavia sat firmly next to her in the empty med-bay and asked if there was anything she could do to help. Sam was leaving her in charge on her own more and more.

“Um. We’ve got new bandage that you can put into rolls. Like those ones.” Clarke nodded to the finished rolls.

“You got it doc,” Octavia said, and she sounded so _chipper_ that Clarke just had to say something.

“You’re being very friendly.” She tried not to sound accusing, but Octavia hadn’t exactly been welcoming to Clarke since the whole arranged marriage situation was announced.

“I’m curious, mostly. I heard about what happened between you and Finn.”

“Ah.”

Octavia held eye contact. “I want the dirt. Rumor has it Finn tried to get you to leave Bellamy, and you almost sliced his hand off.”

At this, Clarke laughed. “I did not almost slice his hand off. I just threatened violence if he ever touched me again. But how does anyone know about this? We were alone when it happened.”

“You and Finn thought you were alone, but Bellamy and Miller had just reached camp. They saw the whole thing from the outside of the fence.”

“Oh.” Bellamy had seen? Clarke tried to catalogue her interactions with him since his return. Had he acted any differently? She had just been happy to have him back.

“Heard the whole thing too, actually. I was with Miller when he told Harper the story.”

“So that’s why they’ve been giving me funny looks all day.”

“Funny looks? Like what?” Octavia asked.

“Like they’re suddenly rather fond of me.”

Octavia laughed. “Yeah I think Miller was pretty impressed. Me too, for that matter.” She nudged Clarke’s shoulder with her own. “So Finn really tried to get you to leave Bellamy?”

“I don’t actually know what he was trying to get me to do. I didn’t exactly let him explain very much. Maybe he just wanted me to sleep with him but keep up pretenses with the marriage?” Clarke sighed. “I have no idea what he was thinking. He’s an idiot. There is no possible scenario where we could be together, even if I didn’t--” Clarke stopped suddenly.

“Even if you didn’t what?” Octavia demanded.

 _Even if I didn’t love your brother_ , Clarke had been about to say, but that was ridiculous. _It’s only been two months, you’re getting ahead of yourself._ But Clarke’s heart pounded with the realization that she was already so far gone as to slip into that thought so easily.

“Even if I didn’t care about hurting your brother,” Clarke said. “Which I do.”

“Miller also said that you uh, sort of insisted that Finn was wrong about how intimate you and Bellamy are. That good, huh?”

Clarke nearly choked. “No, no, uh, that--”

“But you and Bellamy haven’t slept together yet, have you?”

Clarke narrowed her eyes on Octavia. “How do you know that?” she demanded. “Are we that obvious?”

“No, calm down. I only noticed because he’s my brother, and the two of you aren’t very affectionate, even when you’re only around me. I doubt anyone else cares enough to pay attention to it.”

“Well, it wasn’t for lack of trying,” Clarke muttered.

“What?” Octavia asked, but after a moment she realized. “ _Oh_. Bellamy rejected you?” She sounded astonished.

Clarke shrugged. “I think he was angry over the marriage. He just said that we shouldn't, that he couldn't, and that was that.” Clarke paused and reconsidered what she was doing. “I really shouldn’t be talking to you about this, it’s between me and Bellamy. Please don’t tell anyone I told you this, it was out of line and I already regret it.”

Octavia looked at her quizzically, but nodded. “Okay. But I’m just wondering, why did you say those things to Finn if they weren’t true?”

“Finn is vile for even thinking he could have me when I’m married to Bellamy. He may have been right about Bellamy hardly ever touching me, but I’d be damned if I let him know that,”

“Well, I think he’ll probably leave you alone now.”

Clarke smirked. “Let’s hope so.”

 

An hour later, after finishing the bandage rolls for Clarke and extracting a promise from her that she would stop working long enough to eat lunch, Octavia managed to find Bellamy. He was talking with Miller at one of the guard posts, and when Octavia approached, Miller just gave him an amused nod before walking away.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked. She was joking, he thought. But it was always hard to tell.

“What are you talking about?”

“You rejected Clarke on your wedding night?”

Bellamy’s face paled instantly. “How do you know that?” He shook his head. “You know what, never mind, I don’t care. It’s none of your business, Octavia.”

She shrugged. “You’re right, it’s not. But I’m still dying to know why.”

He looked at her sideways. “We are not having this conversation.”

Octavia didn’t seem to care what he thought. “God Bell, do you have any idea how much that must have hurt her?”

His brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“She knows how many women you’ve been with, that you’ve slept with most of the girls at this camp. And then she married you, and offered you her body, and you turned her away? Can you even imagine how that must have made her feel?”

Bellamy dragged a hand over his face. “I didn’t--you don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand?”

“She was shaking. When she was taking her clothes off, she was shaking, like she was walking into battle. Like she was terrified. I wasn’t going to sleep with her like that.”

“Honorable, Bell. But have you ever actually seen Clarke scared?”

Bellamy scowled. “That’s not the point.”

“Maybeee,” Octavia drew out the word, “she was a little nervous. Or maybe she was just excited to finally have her new husband to herself.”

“She didn’t even know me then,” Bellamy started to defend himself, but then realized what he was doing. “You know what, actually, that’s enough,” Bellamy said, embarrassed. “This conversation is over. Get lost.”

Octavia raised both her hands and shook her head as she started walking away. “Don’t do anything on my account. It’s _your_ marriage, Bellamy. You’re the one who has to live with it.”

Octavia wasn’t usually right, but she sounded that way now, and Bellamy didn’t like it. It left him so unsettled that when he saw Finn a few hours later, he followed him until they were relatively alone.

“Hey, Finn!”

The boy turned, and the sight of his shaggy hair swinging around made Bellamy, after simmering for days, finally angry enough to pull his fist back and knock it into his jaw. Finn went sprawling to the ground, and when he started to stand, Bellamy grabbed his shirt by the collar and pulled him up.

“Seriously?!” Finn yelled. “Clarke can’t really be this pissed off at me.”

“This isn’t for Clarke, this is for me,” Bellamy growled. “Get out of my camp.”

Even bleeding from his mouth, Finn managed to look smug. “What’s the problem? You aren’t confident she’ll be faithful to you?”

Bellamy tightened his grip. “The problem is that I’m tired of looking at your face. Go to Mount Weather, go live with the grounders, I don’t give a fuck, but you’re not going to be in Arkadia.”

“This is my home too,” Finn spat. “You’re dreaming if you think I’ll leave it willingly.”

Bellamy shook his head, laughing bitterly. “You really don’t get it, do you? Clarke and I are holding together a treaty with our bare hands and a couple of vows. A treaty that’s protecting Arkadia, protecting our _people_. Our marriage is about more than just us, and you were trying to get into the middle of it, why? Because you could, because you’re selfish, maybe because you’re just that fucking stupid? Whatever it was, you were willing to put _all_ of us at risk, and I won’t tolerate it.”

Finn’s face had grown pale, realizing that Bellamy was serious, waiting for his final verdict.

“I built this place. Get the hell out of it.” Bellamy shoved him away and stalked off.

 

“I’ve been thinking…” Bellamy said a few days later, when he and Clarke were tucked in for the night.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think we should try to look more… I don’t know, _married_ to the rest of camp?”

“What?” Clarke laughed. “Is this because of Finn?”

“Sort of.” Bellamy shrugged. “I don’t want people thinking that this isn’t… I don’t know. I don’t want my people--or yours--thinking that there are weaknesses to exploit here when we’re supposed to be what sealed the treaty. Or that we’re not… I don’t know, close enough for the rest not to matter anyway.”

“Okay,” Clarke agreed. “So what do you want to be different?”

Bellamy stared at the ceiling. “Maybe just more casual contact? Nothing has to really change between us. But everyone should see that we’re comfortable together, that we’re close. We should--we should look like a couple.”

Clarke nodded. “Okay, easy enough. I’ll follow your lead.”

The next several days saw Bellamy making tentative attempts to get physically closer to Clarke in situations that didn’t involve being alone in bed and huddling for warm. Gentle brushes of his hand against hers, a hand on her knee as they sat at dinner, wrapping his arm over her shoulder when they walked somewhere together, but always only when they were in sight of others. But Bellamy quickly realized that one of the reasons they never touched outside of their cabin was because they were rarely actually together outside of their cabin. So he tried to initiate more contact.

When he walked into the med-bay a week after the Finn debacle, there was no one else there, no one to perform for. But he saw her reaching her left hand to awkwardly massage her right shoulder, and felt a twinge of guilt.

“Let me help with that,” he said as he approached. She looked surprised, but let him maneuver her into a chair with her back to him. Her head dropped toward her chest when he placed his hands on her shoulders and started kneading.

“Jesus, how many knots do you have back here, princess?” he asked after a minute.

She huffed. “A lot.”

After a few more minutes of Bellamy’s thumbs digging at her tense muscles, Clarke couldn’t hold back a small whimper when he hit a sore spot. He stopped immediately.

“Was that good or bad, Clarke?”

“Good, good, that was good, please keep going,” she said, maybe a bit too eagerly. But she hadn’t had anyone to work on her back in ages, and it felt like it was always tense. She wasn’t going to give up whatever time Bellamy was willing to spend putting his strong hands to use.

He kept kneading, switching to her neck.

“You know,” he said, “this is kind of a precarious position for you.” The threat in his voice was belied by the delicate way his fingers were stroking the sides of her neck.

“Guess it’s a good thing that I trust you then.” Clarke said lightly. He hummed in response.

Raven’s voiced burst into the stillness, “Hey Clarke are you–-” She stopped suddenly when she noticed them. “Sorry, I can come back later.”

“No, no, I’m on duty,” Clarke said, though she already missed the feeling of Bellamy’s hands on her shoulders. “What’s up?”

“You said to come back in a week to get those stitches out. Please get the damn things out of me?”

Clarke laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

They moved to a table so Clarke could examine her arm, and Raven said, “So I heard you almost chopped my ex-boyfriend’s arm off.”

Clarke spluttered, but recovered. “Honestly I think the tale’s beginning to get a little exaggerated. I was going to go for his face. Fingers and hands come after that.”

Raven laughed delightedly, and Clarke smiled back until she noticed Bellamy moving to the door. “Wait, Bellamy!” He turned back to her. “Did you need something from the med-bay?”

He shook his head. “No, I just came to see you.” A blush fell across her face. “I’ll see you at dinner?” She nodded, unable to say anything, and he left.

When she lifted her eyes from the table, Raven raised an eyebrow. “Nice husband.”

“Oh shut up,” Clarke said, but there was no heat in it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you have a moment!! They mean a lot to me and really encourage me to keep going. (And please don't make me beg every time, yeah?)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on TMTWH: Finn tried to hit on Clarke, and she gave him a verbal ass-kicking. Then Bellamy gave him a literal ass-kicking and told him he had to leave Arkadia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic hit 1,000 kudos last chapter, which is amazing! Thank you so so much.
> 
> Tbh I'm a little self conscious about the very fake science in this chapter, but this is fanfic so literally everything exists as a plot device for the emotional stuff. Basically if you're a medical professional please ignore the fact that I just made a bunch of shit up. I'm an English major and research fucking sucks. And it's probably about on par with how terribly the actual show handles its science elements, so lmao just enjoy it okay!
> 
> Also, I thought about posting only half of this chapter and leaving y'all on a cliffhanger for a few days, but then I decided to be nice. You're welcome.

“What is it that you’re looking for again?” Bellamy asked, and Clarke showed him the illustration she had copied that morning.

“Right, got it.”

Octavia and Lincoln trailed behind them, also keeping their eyes sharp for the medicinal plant that Clarke wanted to collect. The four of them had just gone for a round of target practice, since they were outside of Arkadia anyway, and Clarke felt her bow and arrow nudging her shoulder with each step. She was getting better with Bellamy’s handgun too, and had decided she didn’t really like the rifles, though they were good for long distance shooting so long as she could plant one somewhere instead of holding it up herself.

She glanced up and caught Bellamy’s gaze, smiling. He smiled back. And then an arrow flew over Clarke’s head and through the flesh of his shoulder.

Clarke screamed at the same moment that Bellamy grunted, falling backward in shock.

“Bellamy!” She rushed to him, cradling the side of his face with one hand while the other fluttered over the wound, unsure of where to land.

The doctor--and the wife--in her told her to stay put and take care of Bellamy, but the warrior in her told her that it was a flesh wound and whoever made the shot was getting away or preparing another attack this very moment. She looked over her shoulder, but couldn’t spot anything. Lincoln seemed to sense her hesitation, because he stepped forward to take her place.

“I’m… okay,” Bellamy said as he caught his breath.

Clarke stroked his cheekbone with her thumb. “I need to go find them.”

Bellamy nodded, though he was obviously in pain. “Go.”

Clarke swallowed and stood, running through the trees quietly. It was surprisingly easy to find the attacker, and she realized why when she saw them.

Two boys, about ten years old if she had to guess, were darting away. Clarke drew an arrow and let it fly, watching with satisfaction as it sailed through the closest boy’s shirt and pinned him to a tree, unharmed. He screamed, and the farther boy stopped, his eyes going wide when he saw Clarke, clearly caught between whether to stay and help his friend or run for his life.

His friend yelled for him to run, but Clarke was just as fast, drawing a knife against the boy at the tree. “Come back or your friend is losing both his hands,” she yelled.

The boy returned. “It was an accident,” he pleaded. “We didn’t mean to hit him!”

“How do you know who you hit if it was an accident?” Clarke demanded.

The boys were silent, looking at each other for a moment, before the one pinned to the tree piped up. “We ran closer after we heard the scream and saw him. We were just messing around and practicing, we didn’t mean to!” The boy was near tears, but Clarke still raised her eyebrows in suspicion.

“You’re trikru?” The boys nodded. “What village?”

Clarke felt flames licking up her back when they named the Williams settlement, the village that had spearheaded all of the previous attacks on Arkadia. The village whose attacks had been the catalyst for the treaty that was sealed by her marriage to Bellamy--the village which was prohibited from attacking Arkadia by the treaty now. Their leader hated the Arkers and despised that Arkadia was closer to their village than to any other grounder settlement, even though it still wasn’t exactly a stroll away.

“What were you doing practicing all the way by Arkadia? That’s a two hour walk for just messing around.”

The boys shrugged. “We wandered off.”

But from the look of their clothes, they’d been away from home for at least a day, maybe two or three.

“I’m sure you did.”

“Clarke!” Bellamy’s voice washed over her like warmth, and she was relieved to hear his steady footsteps approaching. When she glanced, Lincoln was walking just behind, clearly ready to catch him if anything happened, and Octavia followed. Lincoln had removed the arrow and bandaged the wound, and he looked fine.

“What are you doing, they’re kids?” Bellamy asked, his voice confused and upset with her. Clarke didn’t want to explain her suspicions in front of the boys, so she kept it simple.

“They shot you!”  
“It was an accident!” one of them insisted again.

Octavia looked at Clarke like she was crazy. “Seriously, Clarke? You’ve got a knife on a kid who didn’t mean any harm.”

Lincoln met her gaze, and she was relieved to see from his subtle nod that he agreed with her, at least. But they couldn’t talk about it here.

“Fine,” Clarke grumbled, putting her knife away and pulling her arrow from the tree, freeing the boy. He ran to his friend quickly. “Go home. Don’t come back to Arkadia. If you do, I’ll aim for your heart and I won’t miss.”

The boys ran off, and Clarke turned to Bellamy, feeling herself come down from the confrontation. Octavia and Bellamy seemed startled by how serious she still was, especially when they glanced to Lincoln and saw that he shared her expression.

“They were just kids being stupid, right?” Octavia asked.

Clarke and Lincoln looked at each other. She was glad when he spoke up first.

“You saw the way Clarke can shoot. There are grounder children who do nothing but train. It wouldn’t be that unusual for a kid to have Clarke’s aim at say, twelve.”

“Yeah, but they hit me in the shoulder. If they were trying to do real damage, their aim was off.”

Clarke shrugged uncomfortably. He was right, but the whole thing left her feeling like there were ants crawling over her entire body.

“Let’s just go back, okay?” she said, playing calm.

“I’m fine, honestly,” Bellamy said. “The bleeding has pretty much already stopped. We can keep looking.”

Her husband, always the martyr. She rolled her eyes. “You’re injured. We’re going back and cleaning it up even if you feel fine.” Bellamy held her eye contact for a moment, and finally nodded.

She checked his wound first, and once satisfied, the four of them turned back in the direction of Arkadia’s main gate and started moving.

 

“Clarke, I can walk. I swear I’m fine,” Bellamy said after the fourth time she tried to put her arm around his waist.

“Okay, sorry,” she tried to sound normal, but he heard the small tremor in her voice. He grabbed her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Better?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“I can go back on my own, you and Octavia could stay here and keep looking.”

“No,” Clarke said sharply. Bellamy looked up, confusion on his face.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I just--we’re all going back. I don’t trust that that was really an accident.”

“They were children, Clarke.”

“I don’t care. I have a bad feeling and I’m not taking chances right now. And when we get back to camp I’m patching you up and then you’re resting for the rest of the day.”

“Okay,” Bellamy said soothingly, rubbing his thumb across the top of her hand in a gentle motion. “We’ll all go back. Just to be safe.”

Clarke sighed. “Thank you.”

 

Despite Bellamy’s protests that he felt fine and he could walk, by the time they made it to the entrance of Arkadia, Clarke felt him swaying.

“Bellamy? Are you okay?”

His only answer was to fall at her feet.

“Bellamy!” she cried. Octavia ran to her side. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, he just passed out! Bellamy?” Clarke touched his face gently, but her mind was racing. She looked up to see who was guarding the gate.

“Miller!” she yelled. “Open the gate!” More quietly, she said, “We need to get him to the med-bay.”

With a bit of maneuvering, Lincoln took most of Bellamy’s weight, while Clarke took the rest.

When they laid him on a mat in the med-bay, accosted by both Miller who had followed them, and Sam, who had been manning the clinic, Clarke ignored them and grabbed Bellamy’s face. When the two men wouldn’t stop talking at them, she covered Bellamy’s ears and yelled at them to shut up. They did.

Clarke exhaled loudly, and focused on her husband. “Bellamy?” she said, her voice trembling. “Bellamy I need you to wake up right now. Bellamy. Bellamy please,” she pleaded.

“Hey princess,” Bellamy said softly.

“Oh my god, oh my god, okay, can you open your eyes for me, Bellamy?”

He did, just barely, but shut them again almost immediately.

“Too tired.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Hey Clarke?”

“I’m right here.”

“I don’t want to question your medical expertise, but is it supposed to feel like that?”

Her face took on a new panic. “Like what Bellamy? What does it feel like?”

“Like really fucking itchy. My whole shoulder.”

Clarke’s hands left his face to cover her mouth, her eyes wide. Then she reached into her pack and pulled out the remnants of the broken arrow that had gone through Bellamy’s shoulder. She licked the tip. When she looked up, Octavia saw a fear in her eyes that made her stumble back.

“What is it?”

Clarke looked to Lincoln, and he knew. “Fire poison?” Clarke nodded.

Clarke stroked Bellamy’s hair back from his forehead, trying to ignore the trembling of her fingers.

“But the symptoms are moving too fast. He shouldn’t have felt it for another hour at the earliest! I’ve never seen it like this!” she said, an edge of hysteria in her voice.

“He was hit, what, half an hour ago?” Lincoln asked calmly. Clarke and Octavia agreed.

“We need the antidote. Oh god, but of course we don’t have the antidote because we’re at godforsaken Arkadia!”

“Why would his body be reacting differently?” Lincoln asked.

“I don’t know, maybe because he grew up in fucking space? Goddamn it!” she shouted, as she picked up an empty tin cup and threw it at the wall. Lincoln was before her in one step and pinning her arms to her sides.

“That’s not going to help Bellamy,” he said softly. “I’ll ride to your village to get the antidote.”

Clarke nodded. “Talk to my mother, ask her if she’s ever seen this reaction before. You’re the fastest we’ve got, and if you change horses at my village, maybe you can make it. If his body were metabolizing this normally we’d have more time. But I don’t even know if we have eight hours to spare.”

“Would it be faster to take the rover?” Miller asked. Clarke and Lincoln looked at each other, considering. “Not through the trees, I don’t--I don’t know, I don’t think so.” Clarke felt helpless.

Lincoln shook his head firmly. “A horse will be best. I’ll be as fast as I can.” He turned to leave, but Clarke grabbed his arm.

“Lincoln, be careful. Those boys... I don’t think this was an accident. It was an assassination attempt.” He nodded, and Octavia and Miller left to see him out of the gate.

When Octavia returned, she looked at Clarke kneeling over Bellamy, her hands fluttering over him, apparently unsure of where to settle.

“So,” she gulped. “Why do they call it fire poison?”

Clarke didn’t move her eyes from Bellamy’s face. “Because supposedly, that’s what it feels like.”

 

Sam kicked into action quickly, making Clarke explain the little she knew about the poison, which made her feel useless.

“I--I don’t really know how it works. It’s not like the grounders work in labs, they just try shit and keep using it if it does what they want. We don’t know much about what it actually does, besides kill you. My mother thinks it causes organ failure. All I know is that it feels like being eaten from the inside out. It’s used a lot in battle, to cause casualties even when the fighting is over. It normally takes longer to show symptoms, so… you don’t realize until it’s too late.”

“But it’s okay,” Octavia said hopefully, “Because Lincoln will get the antidote.”

Clarke nodded, but her face looked grim. “As long as nothing stops him on the way. And only if Bellamy’s body doesn’t speed up the rest of the process.”

“And in the meantime, we’ll clean the wound as well as we can, and we’ll keep him hydrated,” Sam said. Clarke felt reassured by his deliberate calm as he assumed the role of instructor. “Go get an IV drip, Clarke.”

Clarke got everything for the IV set up, but Sam had to take over the needle when he saw how badly her hands were shaking. She sank down next to Bellamy, grabbing his hand and listening to his breathing.

“How far is your village?” Octavia asked.

“Four hours on horseback. Lincoln might be able to make it in three.”

“So what do we do now?”

“We wait.”

 

Octavia couldn’t stand waiting. After about ten minutes, she stood up and walked out the door. Clarke followed her. “Where are you going?”

“I can’t do this! I can’t just sit there!”

“What do you mean? He’s sick, Octavia, he needs you to be there for him!”

“I can’t!” Octavia yelled.

Clarke was astonished. “Who the hell are you? Do you even love him at all? He could die, Octavia, _today_. Are you gonna be there if that happens?” Tears ran down Clarke’s face at her own words, but she ignored them.

Octavia glared at her, but didn’t say anything. She turned, and started running.

“Don’t leave camp, it’s not safe!” Clarke shouted after her.

 

Two hours after Lincoln left, Bellamy woke up again. Clarke was pacing the floor next to him when he coughed lightly. She whipped around to face him.

“Bellamy? Darling, can you hear me?” She knelt next to his chest and lifted her hand to feel the pulse on his neck. It was strong.

He coughed again. “Darling. That’s a new one. I like it.”

Clarke smiled tightly. “I’ll keep using it then. Can you open your eyes?”

After a concerted effort, his eyelids lifted enough for him to focus his eyes on her. She held his face gently between her hands, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs.

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit. What the hell happened to me?”

“The arrow was poisoned. Lincoln’s gone to my village to get the antidote. He should be back in-” she looked down at her watch, “four more hours, hopefully. Until then you’ve just got to hold on.”

He nodded, the tiniest movement.

“Where’s Octavia?” he rasped.

Clarke cringed. “She just left to get some food, should be back any minute.”

They could both feel the lie.

“She’s safe, though?” Bellamy asked.

Clarke’s heart broke for him. “She’s safe.”

  

An hour after that, the shaking set in. At first it was just a trembling in his hands, but soon his chest was shuddering as he took in quivering breaths. Clarke felt his forehead with the back of her hand, and unsatisfied, looked for something to fan his face and chest with.

“Help me get his shirt off?” She said to Sam, and together they struggled to prop him up and pull the shirt over his head before laying him back down. Any other time, Clarke would have been happy to have an unobstructed view of his chest, especially with him unable to catch her staring, but now she just felt numb. She placed a cold washcloth over his forehead.

Miller popped in to ask if they needed anything, and Clarke said, “Blankets. You can bring the ones from our cabin. And some bread, if you can.” He left to fetch them.

Clarke busied herself with dripping water onto Bellamy’s lips, small amounts that would keep his mouth moist. But when he moaned in pain, she couldn’t hold herself together any longer. Silent tears dripped down her face, and then she was sobbing as she stroked Bellamy’s hair. The tears fell to his face, and she heaved in pathetic, hitching breaths and wailed quietly. Sam politely left the room so she could cry over her husband in privacy.

“It’s my fault. It’s my fault. You’re a target because you married me. I’m so sorry Bellamy,” she sobbed, paying no heed to the fact that he was clearly unconscious. “I’m so sorry Bellamy, if you weren’t my husband, this never would have happened to you. This is all my fault. You’re in pain because of me. You’re _dying_ because of me.”

When Miller returned with a neat pile of folded blankets and a loaf of bread, he put them gently on the floor next to Clarke, and didn’t mention anything about the crying.

 

An hour after that, the delirium set in. Bellamy started babbling incoherent words, and it sounded more like Trigedasleng than English, honestly, but he had never learned much of the grounder language. He was covered in blankets now, since his temperature dropped and he started shivering.

He was mumbling soft words about _mount weather_ and _radiation_ , _killing all those people_ and _nightmares_ while Clarke checked his pulse for what was probably the fiftieth time that day. His eyes were closed.

“Clarke?” Bellamy said as she pulled her hand away from his neck.

“I’m here Bell. What do you need?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, ever so softly. “Maybe some water?”

Clarke moved quickly to grab a cup. After he drank, he spoke a little stronger, but she still suspected his head wasn’t all functioning.

“If I die, please don’t get with Finn.”

If he hadn’t been poisoned and in pain she would have punched him in the shoulder. She did crack a weak smile. “I swear to god Bellamy, this is not the time for jokes. If you die, which I am not going to let happen, I am going to spend the rest of my life alone. So you’re not allowed to die, okay?”

“Okay,” he conceded easily. “I’m sorry for being such a shitty husband.”

Clarke choked on a sudden sob. “You’re not a shitty husband, Bellamy.” She stroked his cheekbone with her thumb. “You’re a wonderful husband, and I need you to stick around and keep being that because I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

She could hear him drifting off again when he said, “Why not?”

“Because I love you, you idiot.”

“Okay,” he said, quieter than a whisper, “I guess I’ll stay.”

 

Five hours after Lincoln had left, Bellamy quieted and became so still Clarke began to feel panicked. Beyond changing his surroundings to adjust the extremes of his body temperature – burning up one minute, chilled and shivering the next – Clarke couldn’t actually _do_ anything except wait for Lincoln to return. She despised the feeling of helplessness that seemed to be taking over the med-bay. When Bellamy had vomited, the cleaning kept her busy, and she soothed his worried mumbles. But now he was just _silent._

She checked Bellamy’s pulse again. It was slow, but still strong. She looked at her watch. If Lincoln was as fast as she hoped he was, they only had a little longer to wait, but she knew even an hour would feel like agony.

Bellamy was out cold.

So she waited.

 

Six hours after he left, Lincoln returned. They heard the galloping of his horse right up to the med-bay, and Clarke almost cried from relief. She stood to meet him when he burst through the door, at his side in a second.

“You’re a miracle worker,” she said breathlessly. “Did you speak to my mother?”

Lincoln nodded. “She said to give him both vials, and make sure he keeps it down,” he said as he handed off two glass tubes of a vibrant red liquid.

Clarke knelt at Bellamy’s side, and stroked his face.

“Bellamy, darling can you wake up?”

He grunted, but didn’t open his eyes.

“Bell, we’ve got the antidote,” Clarke said. “Lincoln got the antidote for you.” She looked at Lincoln with gratitude as he collapsed against the wall, catching his breath. Sam hurried to Bellamy’s side to help Clarke.

“I’m going to give it to him slowly, help me make sure it doesn’t spill?” Sam nodded, and Clarke began pouring the first vial into his mouth. Halfway through, he woke up and started coughing, and Clarke clamped her palm across his open mouth.

“Swallow. Swallow Bellamy, please.” He opened his eyes weakly, looking right at her as he complied. “Good. That’s good.” She replaced the vial with a cup of water, and he sipped gratefully. “Okay, you’ve got to take the rest.” He nodded, and Clarke poured the rest of the antidote in his mouth. “I know it tastes terrible, I’m sorry,” she said when she saw him wince. She helped him drink more water, and then sat back with a relieved sigh.

“Your mother thinks that Bellamy’s reaction might have helped him, by forcing him to rest and making us realize something was wrong. She doesn’t think he’ll have any problems recovering,” Lincoln said from across the room.

“Thank god,” Clarke said quietly.

“She also said she’s coming to visit.” Clarke’s eyes whipped to Lincoln. “To check on him herself.”

“When is she coming?” she demanded.

“Tomorrow.”

Clarke groaned and let her head fall back against the wall. “Great.” But she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but the pure relief coursing through her whole body. Bellamy was okay. Bellamy was _alive_ , and he was going to stay that way. Her heart thrummed a happy beat at the thought. _Bellamy’s alive._

 

Two hours later, Clarke jolted awake with a groan. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. She took in her surroundings to find that Bellamy was awake, still laying on the floor, and talking in quiet tones to Sam, who had pulled up a chair next to him.

“Sorry,” Sam said, when he looked up and saw Clarke. “We didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, I’m pretty sure the pain in my neck did that. How’s he doing?”

“I’m just peachy, princess,” Bellamy said from his place on the floor.

Clarke rolled her eyes as she crawled over to sit next to him. “I’m just glad you’re feeling well enough to make jokes. We have Lincoln to thank for that,” she said as she placed a hand gently on his chest. The temperature of his skin was normal, and Clarke felt comforted that he was recovering. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay him.”

Sam stood. “I’m going to go get some food. Should I bring some back?”

“Yes, Bellamy should eat if he can.”

“I meant for you, Clarke.”

“Oh.”

“Bellamy ate when you were sleeping, and I know you haven’t eaten anything all day. I’ll bring enough for two, though.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said, and Sam walked out the door, leaving Clarke and Bellamy to themselves.

“How are you doing? I didn’t mean to fall asleep, do you need anything?”

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? I can get you water, or blankets, or more bread-”

“Clarke,” he cut her off. “I’m fine. More than anything I just want to go back to our cabin and sleep.” Her heart jumped at Bellamy saying _our cabin_.

“We can do that.”

He nodded, and lifted his hand to his chest to lace his fingers with hers.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

She rubbed her thumb along his knuckles. “You’re welcome.”

“How did you know the antidote tasted terrible?”

Clarke’s gaze moved off his face to stare at the wall. “I had to take it once.”

“You were poisoned?”

She nodded. “In battle. I wouldn’t have even known, but Lexa thought to check the arrow when she pulled it out of me afterward.”

“Did she nurse you back to health too?”

“No,” Clarke shook her head, still staring at the wall. “No, she had other duties to attend to.” Her voice held only a trace of bitterness, but it was enough for Bellamy to catch.

He tugged on her hand, urging her to look at him, but she didn’t. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes finally met his, and she moved her hand from his grasp to stroke the side of his face. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Bellamy.”

He paused. “Octavia…” he started. “Octavia wasn’t here at all, was she?”

Clarke wished she had a better answer for him. “No.”

He nodded, his face set grimly. “She’s not very good at… sticking around. Not when it comes to me. I’m surprised she even spent the last two and a half months with us. Probably just wanted to see any drama from the arranged marriage for herself. She loves me, but she doesn’t--” he cut himself off, pressing his lips together to hold in the emotion.

“She doesn’t love you the way you love her,” Clarke filled in the blanks. “Not the way you deserve. Feeling it isn’t the same as giving it. It’s obvious that Octavia feels it, but…”

“She refuses to give me anything,” Bellamy agreed. “She withholds it, like she can’t bear to let me have anything from her.”

Clarke stroked his hair soothingly, and he decided to change the subject. He leaned into her hand as he said, “So, your mom’s coming to Arkadia?”

“Apparently so. I guess she’s worried about her new son.”

Bellamy hummed at that. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Clarke shook her head at him, a weak smile playing at her lips. “You already said that.”

“I know. I’m probably going to keep saying it.”

She leaned her face closer to his. “That’s what married people do Bellamy. They take care of each other.” She leaned the last few inches and kissed his cheek, then nestled her face against his shoulder. “I’ll always take care of you,” she said with her eyes closed.

“I’ll take care of you too,” he whispered to her. She nodded against him, too overcome with emotion to speak.

 

After Sam returned with food for the both of them, and Bellamy sat propped up against the wall to eat, Clarke readied the cabin while Miller and Lincoln assisted him to the bathroom to wash away the sweat from his fevers as best he could. Clarke would have done it, but she knew she wasn’t strong enough to catch him if he lost consciousness. So she put the blankets back on the bed and straightened everything out, making sure there was water and bread nearby.

Miller brought him through the door and propped him on the bed, then turned to her.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, I think we’re okay. Thank you Miller.” He nodded and left.

“Lincoln?” she said to the man still at the door. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Yes, I do. You’re the only one who could have gotten the antidote that fast. You saved my husband’s life. I can never repay you for this.”

He shook his head. “You don’t need to. I was happy to do it. Just--” he paused. “Make sure it wasn’t in vain.”

Clarke flushed, but nodded. “Of course. Goodnight Lincoln.”

“Goodnight Clarke.”

She turned back to Bellamy as she shut the door. When he told her that he hadn’t been able to get the dried sweat off his back, she grabbed a washcloth and knelt behind him on the bed. She worked carefully around the bandage on his shoulder and across his skin. When she was finished, she leaned in to press a kiss to his injured shoulder, over a patch of freckles. She heard his sharp intake of breath, but instead of pulling away, she wrapped her arms around his chest and pulled herself against him.

“I was so worried, Bellamy.”

He covered her arms with his own. “I’m okay, Clarke. I promise.”

She nodded against his back, then moved away to get ready for bed. Bellamy stripped his pants off and laid down in nothing but his boxers, while Clarke bustled around the room, placing her boots by the door, removing her pants, and shrugging into a clean shirt. Bellamy realized after a moment that it was his. He looked away when she changed into a clean pair of underwear, and then she was crawling under the covers with him.

Instead of lying down, she looked hesitantly at his face, then moved gently over him, propped up by her hands on either side of his head. For a moment, they were both still, neither looking away from the other. Finally, Clarke’s eyes shuttered closed as she said, “I was really, really scared, Bellamy.” She dropped her forehead to his and felt his ragged breathing. “I thought you were going to die, and it was going to be my fault, because you married me, and I would never be able to live with myself if you died because of me. I can hardly even deal with the fact that you got hurt because of me.”

With considerable effort, Bellamy lifted a hand and found her waist, pushing under her shirt ( _his_ shirt) to her bare skin. He planted his hand there and rubbed his thumb back and forth soothingly. “You’re the reason I’m still alive. You found the poison on the arrow, and you knew to send Lincoln for the antidote, and your mother was willing to give it away because it was for me. _You_ , Clarke. You’re the reason I didn’t die today. So I don’t want to hear any more nonsense about this being your fault. Got it?”

She smiled weakly. “Got it.”

“Besides, if this was really… planned the way you think it was, it had nothing to do with our marriage and everything to do with the Williams settlement hating the Arkers and wanting us gone. Taking me out would be a good first step. Maybe a convenient accident that ended our marriage by killing me would be a good way to make the treaty fall apart, but this is bigger than that.” He paused, and disappointment fell over his voice. “This is never gonna stop, is it?”

Clarke looked at him fiercely. “Hey, no. We are going to _make_ it stop. I promise. We’ll do it together and we won’t stop until it’s done. They won’t get away with this.”

He sighed. “Okay. Now go to sleep. We’re going to have to deal with your mother tomorrow.” That got him the laugh he wanted, and Clarke moved away, but not before planting a kiss above his heart. Then she curled up next to him, and the shared body heat lulled them both away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been sitting in my documents for so so long waiting for me to reach this point in the story so I could publish it. So please let me know what you think!! Your comments and kudos mean a lot to me.


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